OPEN 
THE  I 
TRAIL 


EDWIN  -1/SABIN 


ft* 


BOOKS  BY  EDWIN  L.  SABIN 


WILD  MEN  OF  THE  WILD  WEST 
"Ou>"  JIM  BRIDGER  ON  THE  MOCCASIN  TRAIL 
PLUCK  ON  THE  LONG  TRAIL;  OR,  BOY  SCOUTS  IN  THE 
ROCKIES 

GREAT  WEST  SERIES 

"THB   GREAT   PIKE'S   PEAK   RUSH";   OR,   TERRY  IN   THE 

NEW  GOLD  FIELDS 
ON  THE  OVERLAND  STAGE;  OR,  TERRY  AS  A  KINO  WHIP 

CUB 
OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

RANGE  AND  TRAIL  SERIES 
BAR  B  BOYS;  OR,  THE  YOUXG  COW-PUNCHERS 
RANGE  AND  TRAIL;  OR,  THE  BAR  B's  GREAT  DRIVE 
OLD  FOUR-TOES;  OR,  HUNTERS  OP  THE  PEAKS 
TREASURE  MOUNTAIN;  OR,  THE  YOUNG  PROSPECTORS 
SCARFACE  RANCH;  OR,  THE  YOUNG  HOMESTEADERS 


THOMAS  Y.  CROWELL  COMPANY 

NEW   YORK 


THE     WEDDING     OF     THE     RAILS 


OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

OR 

TERRY  AS  A  "U.  PAY."  MAN 

(A  SEMI-CENTENNIAL  STORY) 


BY 

EDWIN  L.  SABIN 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  BOY  SETTLER,"     "THE  GREAT  PIK8S 
PEAK  RUSH,"  "ON  THE  OVERLAND  STAGE,"  ETC, 


"Drill,  my  paddies,  drill! 
Drill,  you  tarriers,  drill  1 
Oh,  it's  work  all  day, 
No  sugar  in  your  tay— 
Wor-rkin'  on  th'  U.  Pay.  Ra-a-ailwayP' 
Song  of  the  "U.  Pay"  Men. 


NEW  YORK 
THOMAS  Y.  CROWELL  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


COPTMOnT.    1919.    BY 

THOMAS  Y.  CROWELL  COMPANY 

FOURTH  PRINTING 


TO  THE  READER 

It  is  fifty  years  ago,  this  year  1919,  that  the  first  of 
the  iron  trails  across  the  United  States,  between  the 
East  and  the  West,  was  finally  completed.  At  noon 
of  May  10,  1869,  tne  last  f°ur  rails  m  the  new  Pacific 
Railway  were  laid,  and  upon  Promontory  Point,  Utah, 
about  fifty  miles  westward  from  Ogden,  the  locomo- 
tive of  the  Union  Pacific  and  the  locomotive  of  the 
Central  Pacific  touched  noses.  That  was  indeed  a 
great  event. 

The  Union  Pacific,  coming  from  Omaha  at  the 
Missouri  River,  had  built  over  one  thousand  miles  of 
track  in  three  years ;  the  Central  Pacific,  coming  from 
Sacramento  at  the  Pacific  Ocean,  had  built  over  six 
hundred  miles  in  the  same  space.  Altogether,  in  seven 
years  there  had  been  built  one  thousand,  seven  hun- 
dred and  seventy-five  miles  of  main  track,  and  the 
side-tracks,  stations,  water-tanks,  and  so  forth. 

In  one  year  the  Union  Pacific  had  laid  four  hundred 
and  twenty-five  miles  of  track;  in  the  same  year  the 
Central  Pacific  had  laid  three  hundred  and  sixty-three 
miles.  In  one  day  the  Union  Pacific  had  laid  seven 
and  three  quarters  miles;  in  one  day  the  Central 
Pacific  had  laid  a  full  ten  miles.  These  records  have 
never  been  beaten. 

The  whole  thing  was  a  feat  equaled  again  only 

iii 

BI23083 


TO  THE  READER 

when  America  speeded  up  in  the  war  against  Ger- 
many; for  when  they  once  get  started,  Americans 
astonish  the  world. 

Twenty-five  thousand  men,  including  boys,  were 
working  at  one  time,  on  the  twain  roads.  This  book 
tells  of  the  experiences  of  Terry  Richards  and  George 
Stanton,  who  were  two  out  of  the  twenty-five  thou- 
sand; and  of  their  friends. 

THE  AUTHOR. 


AT  THE  UNION  PACIFIC  END 

TERRY  RICHARDS On  the  Job 

GEORGE  STANTON Likewise  on  the  Job 

TERRY'S  FATHER  j Thg  Crew  of  NQ  „ 

STOKER  BILL  SWEENY  j 

GEORGE'S  FATHER , Out  on  Survey 

MOTHER  RICHARDS  \ Heroines  of  the  y  p 

MOTHER  STANTON  J 

VIRGIE  STANTON First  Passenger  Across 

HARRY  REVERE Expert  Lightning  Shooter 

JENNY  THE  YELLOW  MULE Dead  in  Line  of  Duty 

SHEP  THE  BLACK  DOG "  Killed  in  Action  " 

JIMMIE  MULDOON Who  "  Stays  Wid  the  Irish  " 

MAJOR-GENERAL  GREENVILLE  M.  DODGE.  .The  Big  Chief 

COLONEL  SILAS  SEYMOUR His  New  York  Assistant 

PADDY  MILES Boss  of  the  Track  "  Tarriers  " 

GENERAL  "JACK  "  CASEMENT The  Scrappy  Hustler 

MR.  SAM  REED Construction  Superintendent 

MAJOR  FRANK  M.  NORTH.  .  .White  Chief  of  the  Pawnees 

LINEMAN  WILLIAM  THOMPSON 

Who  Rescues  his  own  Scalp 

GENERAL  GRANT,  General  Sherman,  U.  P.  Vice-Presi- 
dent Thomas  C.  Durant,  Director  Sidney  Dillon,  and 
other  distinguished  visitors;  Major  Marshall  Hurd, 
John  Evans,  Tom  Bates,  Francis  Appleton,  and 
other  daring  survey  engineers;  General  John  A. 
Rawlins,  young  Mr.  Duff,  Mr.  John  Corwith,  tour- 
ists; Mr.  David  Van  Lennep,  geologist;  Sol  Judy 
and  old  Jim,  Bridger,  scouts;  Chief  Petalesharo's 
Pawnees ;  United  States  soldiers ;  the  Irish  "  tar- 
riers "  who  built  the  road ;  Jack  Slade's  "  roaring 
town"  toughs;  and  bad  Injuns. 


AT  THE  CENTRAL  PACIFIC  END 

GOVERNOR  LELAND  STANFORD.  .A  President  in  Broadcloth 
VICE-PRESIDENT  COLLIS  P.  HUNTINGTON 

Who  Raises  the  Money 

MR.  CHARLES  CROCKER.  .Commanding  "  Crocker's  Pets  " 

MR.  SAM  S.  MONTAGUE Chief  Engineer 

MR.  J.  H.  STROWBRIDGE.  . .  .Construction  Superintendent 

MR.  Hi  MINKLER Who  Opens  Paddy  Miles'  Eyes 

MIKE  SHAY,  Pat  Joyce,  Tom  Dailey,  Mike  Kennedy, 

Fred  McNamara,  Ed  Killeen,  George  Wyatt,  Mike 

Sullivan,    the    ten-miles-a-day    "  cracks " ;    and    the 

10,000  Chinks  who  saved  the  Central. 

TIME  AND  PLACE:  1867-1869,  upon  the  great  plains, 
through  the  deserts  and  over  the  mountains,  during 
the  famous  railroad-building  race  to  cross  the  con- 
tinent. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I.  TERRY  RICHARDS  ON  THE  JOB   .     . 

II.  A  LITTLE  INTERRUPTION     . 

III.  "TRACK'S  CLEAR" 

IV.  DOWN  THE  LINE  —  AND  BACK  .      . 
V.  THE  CHEYENNES  HAVE  SOME  FUN 

VI.  MOVING  DAY  ALONG  THE  LINE     . 

VII.  OUT  INTO  THE  SURVEY  COUNTRY  . 

VIII.  GENERAL  DODGE  SHOWS  THE  WAY 

IX.  MORE  BAD  NEWS 

X.  A  MEETING  IN  THE  DESERT     . 

XI.  MAJOR  HURD  IN  A  Fix  .... 

XII.  Two  ON  THE  SCOUT  TRAIL  . 

XIII.  SET  FOR  THE  GREAT  RACE  . 

XIV.  THE  "  TARRIERS  "  MAKE  A  RECORD 
XV.  A  FIGHT  FOR  A  FINISH  .... 

XVI.  FAST  TIME  DOWN  ECHO  CANYON  . 

XVII.  THE  LAST  STRETCH 

XVIII.  THE  U.  P.  BREASTS  THE  TAPE  .      . 

XIX.  THE  C.  P.  SHOW  THEIR  METTLE  . 

XX.  THE  WEDDING  OF  THE  RAILS 


PAGE 
I 

12 

24 

39 
60 

74 

*3 

99 

in 

122 

138 
148 

166 
178 
197 
207 
217 
229 
238 
251 


OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 


CHAPTER  I 

TERRY   RICHARDS   ON   THE   JOB 

"  Drill,  my  paddies,  drill ! 
Drill,  you  tarriers,  drill! 
O,  it's  work  all  day, 
No  sugar  in  your  tay  — 
Wor-rkin'  on  th'  U.  Pay.  Ra-a-ailway !  " 

THE  rousing  chant  rang  gaily  upon  the  thin  air  of 
Western  spring.  Sitting  Jenny,  the  old  yellow  mule, 
for  a  moment's  breather  while  the  load  of  rails  was 
being  swept  from  his  flat-car  truck,  Terry  Richards 
had  to  smile. 

Nobody  knew  who  invented  that  song.  Some  said 
Paddy  Miles,  the  track-laying  boss  —  and  it  did  sound 
like  Pat.  At  any  rate,  the  lines  had  made  a  hit,  until 
already  their  words  were  echoing  from  the  Omaha 
yards,  the  beginning  of  track,  past  end  o'  track  and  on 
through  the  grading-camps  clear  to  the  mountains 
where  the  surveying  parties  were  spying  out  the  trail, 
for  this  new  Union  Pacific  Railroad  across  continent. 

Time,  early  in  May,  1867.  Place,  end  o'  track,  on 
the  Great  Plains  just  north  of  the  Platte  River,  be- 
tween North  Platte  Station  of  west  central  Nebraska 
and  Julesburg,  the  old  Overland  Stage  Station,  of 


2  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

northeastern  Colorado.  Scene,  track-laying  —  a  bevy 
of  sweaty,  flannel-shirted,  cowhide-booted  men  work- 
ing like  beavers,  but  with  spades,  picks,  sledges, 
wrenches  and  hands,  while  far  before  were  the  grad- 
ers, keeping  ahead,  and  behind  were  the  boarding- 
train  and  the  construction-train,  puffing  back  and  forth. 

Aye,  this  was  a  bustling  scene,  here  where  a  few 
weeks  ago  there  had  been  open  country  traveled  by 
only  the  emigrant  wagons,  the  stages  and  the  Indians. 

And  yonder,  farther  than  the  graders  and  out  of 
sight  in  the  northwest,  there  were  still  more  workers 
on  the  big  job :  the  location  surveyors,  the  path-finding 
surveyors,  the  —  but  Terry's  breather  was  cut  short. 

"All  right!  "  yelped  the  command,  from  the  front. 

Terry's  empty  truck  was  tipped  sideways  from  the 
single  track.  A  second  little  flat-car,  hauled  by  a 
galloping  white  horse  ridden  by  small  red-headed  Jim- 
mie  Muldoon,  passed  full  speed,  bound  to  the  fray 
with  more  rails.  Terry's  own  car  was  tipped  back 
upon  the  track  again,  one-legged  Dennis,  its  "  con- 
ductor," hopped  aboard,  to  the  brakes,  and  uttering  a 
whoop  Terry  started,  to  get  another  load,  himself. 

Old  Jenny  headed  down-track,  by  the  path  that  she 
had  worn;  the  fifty  feet  of  rope  tautened;  with  the 
truck  rumbling  after  and  Shep,  Terry's  shaggy  black 
dog,  romping  alongside,  they  tore  for  the  fresh  sup- 
plies. Sitting  bareback,  Terry  rode  like  an  Indian. 

At  the  waiting  pile  of  rails  dumped  from  the  con- 
struction-train he  swerved  Jenny  out,  and  halted.  The 
light  flat-car  rolled  on  until  Dennis  (who  had  been 
crippled  in  the  war)  stopped  it  with  the  brake.  In- 


TERRY  RICHARDS  ON  THE  JOB          3 

stantly  the  rail-slingers  there  began  to  load  it.  And 
presently  Terry  was  launched  once  more  for  end  o' 
track,  with  his  cargo  of  forty  rails  to  be  placed,  light- 
ning quick,  upon  the  ties. 

Jimmie's  emptied  truck  was  tipped  aside,  to  give 
clearance.  Then  Jimmie  pelted  rearward,  for  iron 
ammunition,  and  Terry  had  another  breather. 

That  was  a  great  system  by  which  at  the  rate  of  a 
mile  and  a  half  to  two  miles  and  a  half  and  sometimes 
three  miles  a  day  the  rails  for  the  Iron  Horse  were 
being  laid  to  the  land  of  the  setting  sun. 

Beyond  end  o'  track  the  graded  roadbed  stretched 
straight  into  the  west  as  far  as  eye  could  see,  with  a 
graders'  camp  of  sodded  dug-outs  and  dingy  tents 
breaking  the  distance.  At  the  tapering-ofT  place  the 
ploughs  and  scrapers  were  busy,  building  the  roadbed. 
Next  there  came  the  shovel  and  pick  squads,  leveling 
the  roadbed.  Next,  between  end  o'  track  and  shovel 
squads,  there  were  the  tie-layers  —  seizing  the  ties 
from  the  piles,  throwing  them  upon  the  roadbed,  tamp- 
ing them  and  straightening  them  and  constantly  ask- 
ing for  more,  while  six-horse  and  six-mule  wagons 
toiled  up  and  down,  hauling  all  kinds  of  material  to 
the  "  front." 

Already  the  row  of  ties  laid  yesterday  and  this  very 
morning  extended  like  a  rippling  stream  for  three 
miles,  inviting  the  rails. 

At  end  o'  track  itself  there  were  the  track-builders 
—  the  rail-layers,  the  gaugers,  the  spikers,  the  bolters, 
the  ballasters.  And  upon  the  new  track  there  were 
the  boarding-train  and  the  construction-train. 


4  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

The  boarding-train,  for  the  track  gang,  held  the  ad- 
vance. It  was  a  long  train  of  box-cars  fitted  up  with 
bunks  and  dining  tables  and  kitchen  —  with  hammocks 
slung  underneath  to  the  cross-rods  and  beds  made  up 
on  top,  for  the  over-flow ;  and  with  one  car  used  as  an 
office  by  General  "  Jack  "  Casement  and  his  brother, 
Dan  Casement,  who  were  building  the  road  for  the 
U.  P. 

The  construction-train  of  flat-cars  and  caboose  plied 
back  and  forth  between  end  o'  track  and  the  last  supply 
depot,  twenty  miles  back.  These  supply  depots,  linked 
by  construction-trains,  were  located  every  twenty  miles, 
on  the  plains  beside  the  track,  back  to  North  Platte,  the 
supply  base. 

From  its  depot  the  train  for  end  o'  track  brought  up 
rails,  ties,  spikes,  fish-plate  joints  —  everything.  It 
backed  in  until  its  caboose  almost  touched  the  rear 
car  of  the  boarding-train.  Overboard  went  the  loads 
from  the  flat-cars;  with  a  shrill  whistle,  away  for  an- 
other outfit  of  track  stuff  puffed  the  construction- 
train;  with  answering  whistle  the  boarding-train 
(Terry's  father  at  the  throttle)  followed,  a  short  dis- 
tance, to  clear  the  path  for  the  rail  trucks. 

The  rail  truck,  Terry's  or  Jimmie  Muldoon's,  accord- 
ing to  whose  turn,  loaded  at  the  farthest  pile.  Then  up 
track  it  scampered,  to  the  very  end,  where  two  lines 
of  track-layers,  five  on  a  side,  were  waiting.  Each 
squad  grabbed  a  rail,  man  after  man,  and  hustled  it 
forward  at  a  run;  dropped  it  so  skillfully  that  the  rear 
end  fell  into  the  last  fish-plate.  They  forced  the  end 
down,  and  held  the  rail  straight. 


TERRY  RICHARDS  ON  THE  JOB          5 

"  Down !  "  signaled  the  squad  bosses.  The  gaugers 
had  measured  the  width  between  the  pair  of  rails :  four 
feet  eight  and  one-half  inches.  The  spikers  and  bolters 
sprang  with  spikes  and  bolts  and  sledges.  "  Whang ! 
Whang !  Whangity-whang !  "  pealed  the  sledges  —  a 
rhythmic  chorus.  By  the  time  that  the  first  spikes  had 
been  driven  two  more  rails  were  in  position.  Now 
and  again  the  little  car  was  shoved  forward  a  few 
yards,  on  the  new  track,  to  keep  up  with  the  work. 

A  pair  of  rails  were  laid  — "  Down !  Down !  " — 
every  thirty  seconds!  Two  hundred  pairs  of  rails 
were  reckoned  to  the  mile;  there  were  ten  spikes  to 
each  rail,  three  sledge  blows  to  each  spike.  A  pair  of 
rails  were  laid  and  spiked  fast  every  minute,  which 
meant  a  mile  of  track  in  three  hours  and  a  third  — 
or  say  three  and  a  half.  In  fifteen  minutes  the  fish- 
plate joints  had  been  bolted  and  everything  made 
taut. 

It  was  a  clock-work  job,  at  top  speed,  with  maybe 
1,000  miles  yet  to  go  in  this  race  to  beat  the  Central 
Pacific. 

The  Central  Pacific  was  the  road  being  built  east- 
ward from  Sacramento  of  California.  The  Govern- 
ment had  ordered  the  Union  Pacific  to  meet  it  and  join 
errd  o'  track  with  it,  somewhere  west  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  That  would  make  a  railroad  clear  across 
continent  between  the  Missouri  River  and  the  Pacific 
Ocean ! 

The  Union  Pacific  had  much  the  longer  trail :  1,000 
miles  across  the  plains  and  the  Rockies  and  as  much 
farther  as  it  could  get.  The  Central  Pacific  had 


6  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

started  in  to  build  only  about  150  miles,  and  then  as 
much  farther  as  it  could  get,  east  from  the  California 
border. 

The  C.  P.  had  commenced  first.  By  the  time  the 
U.  P.  had  built  eleven  miles  of  track,  the  C.  P.  had 
completed  over  fifty.  But  while  the  Central  was 
completing  100  miles,  the  Union  Pacific  had  completed 
300. 

Now  the  Central  was  still  fighting  the  snowy  Sierra 
Nevada  Mountains  of  eastern  California,  and  the  U.  P. 
had  open  going  on  the  plains.  The  C.  P.  had  plenty  of 
timber  for  ties  and  culverts  and  bridges,  and  plenty  of 
cheap  Chinese  labor;  the  U.  P.  had  no  timber,  all  its 
ties  were  cut  up  and  down  the  Missouri  River  or  as 
far  east  as  Wisconsin,  and  hauled  to  end  o'  track 
from  Omaha,  and  by  the  time  that  they  were  laid 
they  cost  two  dollars  apiece.  Its  workmen  were  mainly 
Irish,  gathered  from  everywhere  and  pretty  hard  to 
manage. 

The  C.  P.  began  at  Sacramento  on  the  Sacramento 
River,  up  from  San  Francisco,  but  its  rails  and  loco- 
motives had  to  be  shipped  clear  around  Cape  Horn, 
from  the  Pennsylvania  factories  —  or  else  across  the 
Isthmus  of  Panama.  The  U.  P.  began  at  Omaha, 
on  the  Missouri  River,  but  Omaha  was  100  miles  from 
any  eastern  railroad  and  all  the  iron  and  other  sup- 
plies had  to  be  shipped  by  steamboat  up  from  St. 
Louis  or  by  wagon  from  central  Iowa. 

It  was  nip  and  tuck.  Just  the  same,  General  G.  M. 
Dodge,  the  Union  Pacific  chief  engineer  (and  a  mighty 
fine  man),  was  bound  to  reach  Salt  Lake  of  Utah  first 


TERRY  RICHARDS  ON  THE  JOB          7 

where  big  business  from  the  Mormons  only  waited  for 
a  railroad.  This  year  he  had  set  out  to  build  288 
more  miles  of  track  between  April  i  and  November  i. 
That  would  take  the  U.  P.  to  the  Black  Hills  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains.  The  C.  P.  had  still  forty  miles 
to  go,  before  it  was  out  of  its  mountains  and  down 
into  the  Nevada  desert;  and  this  looked  like  a  year's 
work,  also. 

Then  the  U.  P.  would  be  tackling  the  mountains, 
while  the  C.  P.  had  the  desert,  with  Salt  Lake  as  the 
prize  for  both. 

But  288  miles,  this  year,  against  the  Central's  forty ! 
Phew!  No  matter.  General  Dodge  was  the  man  to 
do  it,  and  the  U.  P.  gangs  believed  that  they  could 
beat  the  C.  P.  gangs  to  a  frazzle. 

"  B'  gorry,  'tis  the  Paddies  ag'in  the  Chinks,  it  is?  " 
growled  Pat  Miles,  the  track-laying  boss.  "  Ould 
Ireland  foriver!  Shall  the  like  of  us  let  a  lot  o'  pig- 
tailed,  rice-'atin'  haythen  wid  shovels  an'  picks  hoist 
the  yaller  above  the  grane?  Niver!  Not  whilst  we 
have  a  man  who  can  spit  on  his  hands.  Away  yonder 
on  that  desert  over  ferninst  Calif orny  won't  there 
be  a  shindig,  though,  when  the  shillaly  meets  the  chop- 
stick  !  For  'tis  not  at  Salt  Lake  we'll  stop ;  we'll  kape 
right  on  into  Nevady,  glory  be ! " 

So 

"Drill,  my  paddies,  drill! 
Drill,  you  tamers,  drill! 
O,  it's  work  all  day, 
No  sugar  in  your  tay  — 
Wor-rkin'  on  th'  U.  Pay.  Ra-a-ailway !  " 


8  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

And  — "  Down !  Down !  "  "  Whang !  Whang ! 
Whangity-whang !  " 

The  track-laying  and  the  grading  gangs  were 
red-shirted,  blue-shirted,  gray-shirted ;  with  trousers 
tucked  into  heavy  boots  —  and  many  of  the  trousers 
•were  the  army  blue.  For  though  the  men  were  mainly 
Irish,  they  were  Americans  and  two-thirds  had  fought 
in  the  Union  armies  during  the  Civil  War.  Some  also 
had  fought  in  the  Confederate  armies. 

There  were  ex-sergeants,  ex-corporals,  and  ex-pri- 
vates by  the  scores,  working  shoulder  to  shoulder. 
In  fact,  the  whole  U.  P.  corps  was  like  an  army  corps. 
Chief  Engineer  Dodge  had  been  a  major-general  in 
•the  East  and  on  the  Plains ;  Chief  Contractor  "  Jack  " 
Casement  had  been  brigadier  general;  about  all  the 
way-up  men  had  been  generals,  colonels,  majors,  what- 
not; while  the  workers  under  them  were  ready  at  a 
moment  to  drop  picks  and  shovels  and  sledges  and 
transits,  and  grabbing  guns  "  fall  in  "  as  regular  sol- 
diers. 

This  meant  a  great  deal,  when  the  Indians  were 
fighting  the  road.  This  past  winter  the  engineers  doing 
advance  survey  work  had  been  told  by  Chief  Red 
Cloud  of  the  Sioux  that  they  must  get  out  and  stay 
out  of  the  country  —  but  there  they  were  there  again. 
Nobody  could  bluff  those  surveyors:  fellows  like 
"  Major  "  Marshall  Kurd  who  had  served  as  a  pri- 
vate of  engineers  through  the  war,  and  Tom  Bates, 
and  young  Percy  Browne,  and  their  parties. 

All  the  survey  parties  —  some  of  them  500  miles  in 
the  lead  —  moved  and  worked,  carrying  guns ;  the 


TERRY  RICHARDS  ON  THE  JOB          9 

graders'  camps  were  little  forts;  the  track-builders 
marched  to  their  jobs,  and  stacked  their  rifles  while 
they  plied  their  tools.  At  night  the  guns  were  ar- 
ranged in  racks  in  the  boarding-cars,  to  be  handy. 
The  construction-trains'  cabooses  were  padded  with 
sand  between  double  walls,  and  loop-holed,  and  even 
the  passenger  trains  were  supplied  with  rifles  and  re- 
volvers, in  cars  and  cabs.  General  Dodge  called  his 
private  car,  in  which  he  shuttled  up  and  down  the  line, 
his  "  traveling  arsenal." 

This  was  the  arrangement,  from  the  end  o'  track 
back  to  beginning,  360  miles,  and  on  ahead  to  the  last 
survey  camp.  The  Central  Pacific  was  not  having  such 
trouble. 

"  An'  lucky  for  it,  too,"  as  said  Paddy  Miles.  "  For 
betwixt  the  yaller  an'  the  red,  sure  I'd  bet  on  the  red. 
Wan  Injun  could  lick  all  the  Chinymen  on  this  side 
the  Paycific.  But  there's  niver  an  Injun  who  can  lick 
an  Irishman,  b'  gosh !  " 

However,  today  everything  seemed  peaceful. 
Usually  a  detachment  of  soldiers,  or  a  company  of  the 
Pawnee  Indian  scouts  under  Major  Frank  M.  North, 
their  white-scout  commander,  were  camped  near-by, 
guarding  the  track-laying.  But  the  soldiers  were  else- 
where, on  a  short  cross-country  trip,  and  the  Pawnees 
(Company  A)  were  up  at  Fort  Sedgwick,  near  old 
Julesburg,  fifteen  or  twenty  miles  west. 

The  air  was  very  clear.  The  graders  working  on 
the  roadbed  five  miles  away  might  be  seen.  The  long 
trains  of  huge  wagons,  hauling  supplies,  wended  slowly 
out  to  refit  them.  On  this  section  there  were  100  teams 


io  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

and  2,000  men,  scattered  along;  on  the  next  section 
there  were  another  thousand  men,  doing  the  first  grad- 
ing according  to  the  stakes  set  by  the  engineers.  And 
eastward  there  were  the  trains  and  the  stations,  all 
manned,  and  other  gangs  fixing  the  rough  places  in  the 
track. 

Of  all  this  Terry  felt  himself  to  be  rather  a  small 
part  —  just  riding  old  Jenny  back  and  forth,  with  the 
little  rail  truck,  while  his  father  imitated  with  the 
engine  of  the  boarding-train.  Of  course,  his  father 
had  a  bad  knee  (which  the  war  had  made  worse),  and 
driving  an  engine  was  important;  but  he  himself  envied 
his  chum,  George  Stanton.  George  was  out  with  his 
father  on  railroad  survey  under  Mr.  Tom  Bates  — 
probably  fighting  Injuns  and  shooting  buffalo  and  bear, 
too.  That  also  was  man's  work,  while  riding  an  old 
yellow  mule  over  the  track  was  boy's  work. 

Every  truck-load  of  forty  rails  carried  the  track  for- 
ward about  560  feet.  To  that  steady  "  Down ! 
Down!"  and  "  Whangity-whang ! "  end  o'  track 
reached  out  farther  and  farther  from  the  piles  of  iron 
thrown  off  by  the  construction-train,  and  from  the 
boarding-train  that  waited  for  the  construction-train 
to  back  in  with  another  supply. 

So  while  cleaning  up  the  piles,  Terry  and  little 
Jimmie  Muldoon  had  to  travel  farther  and  farther 
with  their  loads.  Then  in  due  time  the  construction- 
train  would  come  puffing  up,  the  boarding-train,  with 
Terry's  father  leaning  from  the  cab,  would  move  on 
as  close  to  end  o'  track  as  it  dared,  the  construction- 
train  would  follow  and  with  a  great  noise  dump  its 


TERRY  RICHARDS  ON  THE  JOB        n 

cargo  of  jangling  iron,  and  retreat  again;  the  board- 
ing-train would  back  out,  to  clear  the  track  for  the 
trucks ;  and  Terry  and  Jimmie  would  start  in  on  short 
hauls,  for  a  spell. 

The  supply  of  iron  at  the  last  dump  was  almost 
exhausted.  The  construction-train  was  hurrying  in, 
with  more.  Engine  Driver  Ralph  Richards  and  his 
stoker,  Bill  Sweeny,  were  climbing  lazily  into  the  cab 
of  old  No.  119,  ready  to  pull  on  up  as  soon  as  Jimmie 
Muldoon's  truck  left  with  the  final  load.  Terry  had 
his  eye  upon  the  track,  to  see  it  emptied 

"  Drill,  my  paddies,  drill ! 
Drill,  you  tarriers,  drill ! 
O,  it's  work  all  day, 
No  sug " 

Hark!  A  sudden  spatter  of  shots  sounded  —  a 
series  of  shouts  and  whoops  —  the  whistle  of  the  board- 
ing-train was  wide  open  —  up  the  grade  the  graders 
were  diving  to  cover  like  frightened  prairie-dogs  — 
and  out  from  the  sandhills  not  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
to  the  right  there  boiled  a  bevy  of  wild  horsemen, 
charging  full  tilt  to  join  with  another  bevy  who  tore 
down  diagonally  past  the  graders  themselves. 

Sioux?  Or  Cheyennes?  The  war  had  begun,  for 
1867! 


CHAPTER  II 

A   LITTLE   INTERRUPTION 

THE  Indians  had  chosen  exactly  the  right  time,  for 
them.  They  had  awaited  the  moment  when  the  main 
body  of  track-layers  were  farthest  separated  from  the 
boarding-train  and  the  stacks  of  arms;  they  had  seen 
that  there  were  no  soldiers  on  guard;  and  here  they 
came,  with  a  rush,  at  -least  500  of  them. 

"  Fall  in,  men !     Lay  down !     Down  wid  yez !  " 

Terry  tumbled  off  his  yellow  mule  in  a  jiffy.  Drop- 
ping spade  and  sledge,  ducking  and  lunging,  the  men 
weie  scurrying  along  the  roadbed,  seeking  shelter. 
Only  the  squad  of  tampers  and  ballasters  following  end 
o*  track  to  settle  the  ties  were  near  the  first  gun  stacks ; 
Terry  joined  their  flat  line.  The  Springfield  carbines 
were  passed  rapidly,  but  there  were  not  enough. 

"  Stiddy,  boys !  "  bawled  Pat.  He  had  been  a  top 
sergeant  in  the  regular  army  before  the  war.  "  Hug 
the  ground.  The  word  from  headquarters  is  '  Niver 
retrate.'  Sure,  if  we  haven't  guns  we  can  foight  wid 
picks.  Wait  for  orders,  now." 

Down  dashed  the  Indians,  at  reckless  speed:  one 
party  straight  from  the  north,  one  party  obliquing  from 
the  west.  The  engines  of  both  trains  were  shrieking 
furiously.  All  up  the  grade  the  wagons  were  bunch- 
ing, at  a  gallop,  with  military  precision;  the  laborers 

12 


A  LITTLE  INTERRUPTION  13 

were  rushing  in  squads  to  corral  in  them  and  in  the  low 
dug-outs  beside  the  roadbed. 

The  party  of  Indians  from  the  westward  split;  one 
half  veered  in,  and  racing  back  and  forth  there,  pelted 
the  road  embankment  with  a  storm  of  bullets  and  ar- 
rows. The  graders  replied,  but  it  was  hard  to  land 
on  those  weaving,  scudding  figures. 

The  other  half  of  the  party  tore  on,  heading  to 
unite  with  the  second  party  and  cut  off  the  boarding- 
train.  That  was  it!  The  Indians  wanted  the  board- 
ing-train and  supplies. 

Hurrah!  The  boarding-train  was  coming  on,  re- 
gardless. It  was  manned  by  only  Engine  Driver 
Richards  and  Fireman  Sweeny,  a  brakeman  and  the 
cooks;  but  no  matter.  Like  a  great  demon  it  was 
coming  on,  whistling  long  shrieks  and  belching  pitchy 
smoke. 

The  Sioux  (some  Cheyennes,  too)  were  close  upon 
it.  They  began  to  race  it,  whooping  and  shooting. 
The  windows  of  dining-car  and  caboose  replied  with 
jets  of  white,  as  the  cook  and  the  brakeman  bravely 
defended.  Stoker  Bill  shot  from  his  side  of  the  cab. 
The  train  gathered  way  slowly ;  the  ponies  easily  kept 
up  with  it  —  their  riders,  swerving  in,  flung  themselves 
free  of  the  saddles,  clung  to  the  steps  and  ladders  and 
vaulted  the  couplings;  clung  like  ants  and  dragged 
and  writhed,  as  if  they  could  hold  it  back! 

They  charged  the  engine;  even  cast  their  ropes  at 
the  smoke-stack ;  swarmed  to  the  tender  and  from  there 
shot  into  the  cab.  Terry's  heart  welled  into  his  mouth, 
with  fear  for  his  father.  Suddenly  there  was  a  great 


14  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

gush  of  white  steam  —  Engineer  Richards  had  opened 
the  cylinder  cocks,  and  the  cloud  of  scalding  vapor 
surged  back,  sweeping  the  tender.  Out  popped 
sprawly  brown  figures,  to  land  head  over  heels  upon 
the  right-of-way,  and  blindly  scramble  for  safety. 

Hurrah!  Bully  for  Engineer  Richards!  And  the 
construction-train  was  coming  too.  No !  Look  at  it ! 
From  Terry's  neighbors  a  groan  of  disgust  issued. 

"  The  dirty  cowards !  Bad  cess  to  'em !  Turnin' 
tail,  they  are !  " 

For  the  construction-train  was  standing  still,  on  the 
track,  and  the  engine  was  making  off,  back  across  the 
wide  plains,  leaving  a  trail  of  smoke  and  a  good-by 
shriek. 

"  Niver  mind !  We've  a  train  of  our  own.  Yis,  an* 
hearts  to  match  it." 

"  Tis  all  right,  boys.  He's  only  goin'  to  the  tili- 
graph,"  Pat  shouted.  "It's  word  to  the  troops  at 
Sidgwick  he  has  up  his  sleeve.  The  Pawnees'll  be  wid 
us  in  a  jiffy  —  an'  then  watch  them  red  rascals  ske- 
daddle. 'Asy,  'asy,"  continued  Pat,  "  till  the  train's 
widin  reach  of  us.  Stiddy.  We  mustn't  get  scattered, 
like." 

The  boarding-train  was  jolting  and  swaying  on  the 
newly  laid  rails;  but  what  ailed  it,  besides?  Aha! 

"Settin'  the  brakes !     Settin'  the  brakes,  they  are !  " 

And  sure  enough.  These  Cheyennes  and  Sioux 
were  wise.  For  a  year  and  a  half  they  had  been 
watching  the  white  man's  iron  horses  and  big  thunder 
wagons  advancing  onward  into  the  buffalo  country; 
and  they  had  learned  a  number  of  new  wrinkles.  They 


A  LITTLE  INTERRUPTION  15 

were  no  longer  afraid  of  the  strange  "  medicine."  For 
here  they  were,  boldly  tackling  the  cars,  laying  hands 
upon  them,  climbing  aboard  —  and  setting  the  brakes ! 

Their  almost  naked  figures,  outlined  against  the  sky, 
atop  the  cars,  tugged  and  hauled  at  the  brake  wheels. 
The  brake  shoes  ground  harshly;  fumy  smoke  floated 
from  underneath,  as  the  locked  car  wheels  slid  on  the 
rails;  the  engine,  with  throttle  open,  roared  vainly. 
Out  from  the  cab  darted  Fireman  Bill  Sweeny,  mounted 
the  tender  and,  skipping  to  the  first  car,  revolver  in 
hand,  hung  to  the  ladder  while  he  raked  the  tops 
beyond. 

"  Sharp-shooters  give  it  to  'em !  "  Pat  yelped.  The 
carbines  of  the  track-layer  gang  banged  hopefully. 

The  Indians  ducked  and  swung  off  to  the  farther 
side.  The  brakeman  was  out  of  the  caboose.  He  lay 
flat  upon  one  end  of  the  train,  the  fireman  lay  flat  upon 
the  other  end;  and  hitching  along  they  began  to  kick 
the  brakes  free.  The  galloping  Indians  peppered  at 
them,  but  failed  to  hit  them. 

"  Be  ready,  lads,"  Pat  ordered.  "  Skirmishes  wid 
the  guns,  first.  The  rist  of  us  wid  the  picks.  We'll 
run  for  it,  and  meet  the  train.  Jist  a  minute,  now." 
And  — "  Oh,  the  divils !  "  he  added.  "  Charge !  " 

A  squad  of  the  Indians,  dismounted,  had  thrown  a 
tie  across  the  track.  A  wild  volley  from  the  carbines 
had  not  stayed  them.  Engineer  Richards,  plunged  in 
his  own  steam  cloud,  evidently  did  not  see  the  tie; 
he  came  on,  pushing  Jimmie  Muldoon's  loaded  truck 
before  him ;  the  white  horse  tried  to  bolt  and  fell  with 
a  broken  neck  just  as  the  rope  parted;  the  smoke  stack 


16  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

was  atilt,  and  spitting  smoke  and  steam  from  a  dozen 
bullet-holes;  but  twitched  by  the  roaring  engine,  the 
train  moved  faster  and  faster. 

Up  sprang  the  men,  with  a  yell.  The  line  of 
skirmishers,  carbines  poised,  charged  —  charged  in 
splendid  order,  like  soldiers,  aiming,  firing,  running. 
With  picks  and  sledges  and  even  spades  the  other  men 
also  charged,  behind  the  skirmishers ;  bending  low  and 
shouting,  yes,  laughing  in  their  excitement. 

"  The  tie !  Look  out  for  the  tie  on  the  track !  "  they 
hallooed. 

Terry  had  nothing  to  carry,  and  he  was  fast  on  his 
feet.  Never  had  he  sprinted  so,  before.  The  first 
thing  he  knew,  he  was  through  the  skirmishers  and 
legging  on  by  himself,  while  the  bullets  hummed  by  him 
and  every  instant  the  distance  between  tie  and  truck  was 
lessening.  All  his  eyes  and  thoughts  were  on  that 
tie.  If  the  engine  —  his  father's  engine  —  rammed  it 
with  the  rail-loaded  truck  —  wow ! 

He  lost  his  hat  —  he  heard  whoops  and  shouts  and 
excited  Shep's  wild  barking  —  the  Indians  on  his  side 
were  swerving  off,  before  the  carbine  bullets  —  but 
the  engine  was  thundering  down  upon  him,  he  saw 
his  father's  astonished  grimy  face  peering  from  the  cab 
and  he  glimpsed  the  cars  behind  spewing  naked  figures. 
Then  he  dived  for  the  tie.  He  barely  had  time  to  lift 
one  end  when  the  truck  struck  the  tie,  hurled  it  to 
the  left  and  him  to  the  right;  but  they  both  fell  clear, 
for  as  he  picked  himself  up  the  box-cars  were  rumbling 
by,  jerking  to  the  sharply  braked  engine. 

All  was  hurly-burly  with  the  Indians  scooting  and 


A  LITTLE  INTERRUPTION  17 

screeching,  the  men  scrambling  and  cheering,  catching 
at  the  steps  and  braces,  running  alongside  until  the 
train  stopped,  and  clutching  the  guns  passed  out  from 
doors  and  windows. 

The  dining-car  door  slid  back;  the  sweaty  faces  of 
the  cook  and  cookee  grinned  down;  the  brakeman 
leaped  off 

"  Fall  in,  now !  Fall  in  wid  yez !  "  were  Pat's  orders. 
"  Take  your  distances  ben'ath  —  two  men  to  each  pair 
o'  wheels.  An'  them  that  hasn't  guns  lay  flat  inside." 

Terry  had  no  notion  of  lying  flat  inside.  He 
plunged  like  a  rabbit  under  the  dining-car  (bewildered 
Shep  at  his  heels),  for  a  place  between  the  rails;  found 
none,  and  dodged  on,  trying  not  to  step  on  anybody 
or  be  in  the  way.  He  arrived  at  the  tender,  and  had 
to  come  out. 

"  Get  in  here !  Quick !  "  It  was  his  father,  sight- 
ing him.  Terry  hoisted  himself  into  the  engine,  while 
several  bullets  rang  upon  the  metal  grasped  by  his 
hands.  He  lurched  to  the  fireman's  seat  and  huddled 
there,  to  gain  breath  and  grin.  With  a  running  leap 
Shep  followed,  to  curl  close  in  a  corner,  safe,  he 
believed,  from  all  that  racket. 

"Well,  where  were  you  going?"  his  father  de- 
manded. 

"Just  looking  for  a  good  place,"  Terry  panted. 

"  You've  found  it,  and  you'd  better  stick.  'Tisn't 
healthy,  outside.  What  were  you  doing  on  the  track 
ahead  of  me?  Didn't  I  hit  something?  " 

"  A  tie,  dad.     They'd  laid  a  tie  across  the  track." 

"  Oho !  Good  for  you.  But  you  took  a  big  chance. 
Did  you  reach  it  ?  " 


i8  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

"  I  got  one  end  up." 

"If  I'd  hit  it  plumb,  reckon  some  of  those  rails 
would  have  been  driven  into  the  boiler.  I  couldn't 
see  plain,  on  account  the  steam  and  the  truck.  The 
crooked  stack  bothered  me,  too.  Anyhow,  here's  one 
train  they  don't  capture." 

"They  can't  take  it,  can  they,  dad?" 

"  Not  on  your  life,  Terry.  Not  while  there's  a 
cartridge  for  a  gun  or  an  Irishman  to  swing  a  pick, 
or  an  ounce  of  steam  in  the  boiler  of  old  119.  If 
worst  comes  to  worst  we  can  run  back  and  forth, 
'twixt  here  and  that  construction-train." 

Terry  jumped  down  and  crawled  to  peek  out  be- 
tween engine  and  tender. 

"  No,  we  can't,  dad.  They're  piling  ties  on  the 
track  'way  behind !  " 

"  I  declare !  They're  too  smart.  They  even  set 
the  brakes  on  me,  and  tried  to  rope  the  engine  stack, 
like  they  would  a  horse's  neck!  So  they  think  they 
have  us  corralled,  do  they  ?  " 

That  was  so.  The  pesky  Indian  had  daringly 
charged  to  the  farthest  pile  of  ties  —  a  spare  pile  — 
tied  ropes,  and  at  a  gallop  dragging  the  ties  to  safer 
distance  were  erecting  a  barricade  upon  the  track. 

Evidently  they  meant  business,  this  time.  It  was 
to  be  a  fight  to  a  finish.  All  up  the  graded  roadbed 
the  U.  P.  men  were  fighting  off  the  red  bandits  — 
fighting  from  the  dug-outs  and  the  embankment  and 
the  wagon  corrals;  they  had  no  chance  to  sally  to  the 
boarding-train.  And  here  at  the  boarding-train 
Paddy  Miles'  track-layers  were  fighting. 


A  LITTLE  INTERRUPTION  19 

Part  of  the  Indians  dashed  around  and  around  in 
a  great  circle,  whooping  gleefully  and  shooting  at  long 
distance.  "  Blamed  if  they  haven't  got  better  guns 
than  we  have,"  remarked  Terry's  father,  as  now  and 
then  a  bullet  pinged  viciously  against  the  boiler-iron 
of  engine  or  tank.  Others,  dismounted,  crept  steadily 
forward,  like  snakes,  firing  from  little  hollows  and 
clumps  of  brush. 

The  Paddy  Miles  sharp-shooters,  snug  beneath  the 
cars,  and  protected  by  the  rails  and  the  car-wheels, 
stanchly  replied.  The  heavy  Springfield  balls  kicked 
up  long  spurts  of  sand  and  'dobe  dust ;  once  in  a  while 
a  pony  rider  darted  in,  for  closer  shot  —  sometimes 
he  got  away  with  it,  and  sometimes  his  horse  lunged 
headlong,  to  lie  floundering  while  the  rider  himself 
ran  hunched,  for  shelter.  Then  the  men  cheered  and 
volleyed  at  him;  maybe  bowled  him  over,  but  not 
always. 

Terry's  father  had  lighted  his  pipe;  and  there  he 
sat,  on  his  seat,  with  his  gun  poked  out  of  the  window, 
to  get  a  shot  when  he  might.  He  was  as  cool  as  a 
cucumber,  and  ready  for  any  kind  of  business.  This 
was  not  his  first  scrape,  by  any  means.  He  had  been 
a  gold-seeker  in  the  rush  of  Fifty-nine,  to  the  Pike's 
Peak  diggin's  of  Colorado;  and  he  had  served  in 
the  Union  Army  of  the  Civil  War.  Only  his  crippled 
knee  had  put  him  into  the  cab  —  but  brave  men  were 
needed  here,  the  same  as  elsewhere,  these  days. 

"  Where  did  the  other  engine  go,  dad  ? "  Terry 
asked. 

"  To  the  nearest  wire.     There's  a  spur  station  and 


20  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

operator  ten  miles  back,  you  know.  Sedgwick  has  the 
word,  by  now ;  and  so  has  North  Platte.  Pretty  soon 
we'll  see  the  Pawnees  coming  from  the  one  direction 
and  the  general  himself  from  the  other ;  and  that'll  put 
an  end  to  this  fracas." 

Terry  exclaimed. 

"  They're  shooting  fire  arrows !  " 

Cleverly  worming  along,  several  of  the  Indians  had 
posted  themselves  near  enough  to  use  their  bows. 
They  launched  arrow  after  arrow,  with  bunches  of 
flaming  dried  grass  and  greasy  rags  —  yes,  as  like  as 
not  old  waste  —  tied  to  the  heads ;  and  these  plumped 
into  car  top  and  car  side. 

'  The  confounded  rascals ! "  growled  Engineer 
Richards. 

Fireman  Bill  Sweeny  hurdled  from  the  first  car 
down  to  the  tender.  He  was  sweat-streaked  and 
grim,  and  bleeding  at  the  shoulder.  He  grabbed  a 
bucket,  soused  it  into  the  tank,  and  away  he  staggered. 

"Train's  afire,  Ralph,"  he  yelled  back.  "Don't 
shove  out "  and  he  was  gone. 

Forward  bustled  other  men,  with  buckets ;  dipped 
into  the  tank  and  sped  for  the  rear  again.  Matters 
were  getting  serious.  The  Springfields  seemed  un- 
able to  ferret  out  the  bow-wielders.  There  was  a 
cheer,  and  Pat  Miles  led  a  charge.  Out  from 
beneath  the  cars  there  rushed  a  line  of  skirmishers, 
while  behind  them  the  carbines  barked,  supporting 
them.  Up  from  their  coverts  sprang  the  fire-arrow 
Indians,  and  bolted.  Giving  them  a  volley  the 
skirmish  dropped  and  dug  in. 


A  LITTLE  INTERRUPTION  21 

A  line  was  thrown  out  on  the  other  side  of  the 
train,  also.  This  made  the  Indians  furious;  their 
horsemen  raced  madly  up  and  down,  showing  only 
an  arm  and  a  leg,  or  suddenly  firing  from  the  saddle 
and  hanging  low  again.  At  the  best  they  were  diffi- 
cult marks.  They  had  plenty  of  ammunition,  and 
rifles  that  outranged  the  stubby  carbines. 

"Fire's  squelched  except  the  last  car;  that's 
a-burnin',"  gasped  Stoker  Bill,  lurching  in  and  sink- 
ing breathless  upon  his  seat.  "  Don't  back  up.  Say, 
kid,  help  me  tie  this  shoulder,  will  you  ?  " 

"Hurt  bad,  Bill?"  Engineer  Richards  queried, 
keenly. 

"  Nope.     Just  perforated  a  trifle." 

"Anybody  else  hurt?" 

"  None  particular.  But  I  sure  thought  this  kid 
was  a  goner,  though.  Did  you  see  him  ?  " 

"Where?" 

"When  he  reached  for  that  tie?" 

"  Didn't  see  him  or  the  tie  either,  till  too  late.  I 
knew  I  hit  something." 

"  Well,  I  happened  to  be  squinting  up  this  way, 
and  I  saw  him  just  as  he  heaved  an  end  clear  of  the 
track.  Next  thing,  you  sent  him  one  way  and  the  tie 
the  other.  He's  an  all-right  boy." 

"  Guess  he  is,"  laughed  Terry's  father.  "  He'll  get 
promoted  off  that  old  yellow  mule,  first  thing  we 
know." 

"  Wish  General  Dodge  would  let  me  go  out  on  a 
survey,"  Terry  blurted.  "  Like  George  Stanton." 

"  I'll  speak  to  the  general  about  it,"  said  Fireman 
Bill,  with  a  wink  at  his  cab  partner. 


22  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

But  Engineer  Richards  did  not  notice.  He  was 
peering  behind,  out  of  his  window. 

"  Hi !  Here  comes  the  other  engine,'*  he  uttered. 
"  Yes,  and  the  headquarters  car  for  a  trailer !  The 
old  man  (that  was  Major-General  Dodge,  of  course) 
is  inside  it,  I'll  bet  a  hat!" 

They  all  looked.  Far  down  the  track  an  engine, 
twitching  a  single  car,  was  approaching.  By  her  trail 
of  dense  wood  smoke  and  the  way  she  bounced  on 
the  little  curves  and  bumps,  she  was  making  good  time, 
too. 

"  Chief  boss  is  on  the  job,  sure,"  quoth  Bill. 

"  Usually  is,"  added  Terry's  father.  "  Always  has 
been.  Nothing  happens  from  one  end  of  line  to 
t'other,  but  he's  there." 

The  fighting  track-layers  had  seen,  and  began  to 
cheer  afresh.  Away  galloped  a  portion  of  the  enemy, 
to  pester  the  reinforcements.  But  the  engine  came 
right  on,  until  it  halted  at  the  end  of  the  construction- 
train.  Out  from  the  headquarters  car  issued  man 
after  man  —  springing  to  the  ground,  guns  in  their 
hands,  until  they  numbered  some  twenty. 

The  first  was  a  straight,  well-knit  figure  in  broad- 
brimmed  black  slouch  hat  and  ordinary  civilian 
clothes.  There  appeared  to  be  two  or  three  men  in 
regular  city  clothes  with  him;  the  rest  were  dressed 
more  rough  and  ready,  like  trainmen  and  workmen. 

The  Indians  were  circling  and  yelling  and  shooting, 
at  long  distance.  The  slouch  hat  led  forward  at  a 
run.  From  the  construction-train  the  handful  of  train 
crew  leaped  out ;  they  had  been  housed,  waiting,  on  de- 


A  LITTLE  INTERRUPTION  23 

fense,  but  helpless  to  do  much.  All  ran  forward. 
The  slouch  hat  man  pointed  and  gave  orders;  the 
train  crew  jumped  at  the  pile  of  ties,  while  the  other 
men  rapidly  deployed,  in  accurate  line  —  advancing 
as  if  in  uniform,  and  yielding  not  an  inch. 

The  ties  were  scattered  in  a  twinkling;  the  engine 
pushed  —  the  train  moved  slowly  up  track,  with  the 
slouch  hat's  men  clearing  either  side  of  the  track,  at  a 
trot,  fire,  and  trot  again.  The  train  crew  closed  the 
rear.  The  engine  whistled  triumphantly;  Terry's 
father  yanked  the  whistle  cord  of  No.  119,  and  by 
blast  after  blast  welcomed  the  new-comers. 

In  spite  of  the  frantic  Indians  the  trains  joined. 
But  the  fighting  was  not  over.  It  had  only  been  ex- 
tended into  a  longer  line.  Terry  could  stay  quiet  no 
more.  He  simply  had  to  be  out  into  the  midst  of 
things.  With  General  Dodge,  the  chief  engineer  and 
noted  army  man,  on  deck,  there  would  be  a  change  of 
program. 

"  I'm  going,  dad,"  he  announced.  Not  waiting  for 
answer,  out  he  tumbled,  so  quickly  that  Shep  did  not 
know  it.  For  Shep  was  sound  asleep. 


CHAPTER  III 
"  TRACK'S  CLEAR  " 

THE  few  carbine  barrels  jutting  here  and  there  from 
behind  the  car  wheels  were  silent,  as  hugging  the  side 
of  the  train  Terry  boldly  stepped  over  them;  the 
skirmish  lines  were  doing  the  shooting.  Half  way 
down  the  train  a  knot  of  men  were  holding  a  council. 

They  were  Chief  Engineer  Dodge  (the  figure  in  the 
black  slouch  hat)  and  three  men  in  city  clothes,  and 
Pat  Miles.  But  before  Terry  might  steal  nearer,  fresh 
cheers  arose. 

"  The  Pawnees !  Here  they  come !  Hooray  for 
the  Pawnees !  " 

The  men  underneath  the  cars  began  to  squirm  out, 
and  stand,  to  yell.  Over  a  swale  up  the  graded  right 
of  way  there  appeared  a  mounted  force  —  looked  like 
soldiers  —  cavalry  —  one  company,  two  companies, 
deploying  in  broad  front;  and  how  they  did  come! 

The  graders  yonder  were  waving  hats,  and  cheer- 
ing; the  Cheyennes  and  Sioux  hemming  them  in  dug 
their  heels  into  their  ponies  and  bending  low  fled  be- 
fore the  charge.  The  General  Dodge  council  had 
moved  out  a  few  paces,  to  watch.  The  general  swung 
his  hat,  also. 

"  Now  for  it !  "  he  shouted.  "  Eorm  your  men,  Pat. 
Blair,  you  wanted  to  see  some  righting.  Take  one 

24 


"  TRACK'S  CLEAR  "  25 

company  and  advance  to  the  left.  Simpson,  you 
take  another  detachment  and  advance  to  the  right. 
White,  you  and  I  and  Pat  will  guard  the  train  with 
the  train  crews  and  the  reserve.  We'll  put  those 
rascals  between  two  fires." 

"  Fall  in !  Fall  in  wid  yez !  "  Pat  bawled,  running. 
The  words  were  repeated.  "Yez  've  thray  gin'rals, 
a  major  an'  meself  to  lead  yez,"  bawled  Pat. 

"  Come  on,  men,"  cried  the  general  named  Blair, 
to  his  detachment;  he  climbed  through  between  the 
cars;  his  men  followed  him  and  away  they  went,  in 
extended  order,  picking  up  the  skirmishers  as  they  pro- 
ceeded. 

In  the  other  direction  ran  General  Simpson's  de- 
tachment, and  out  across  the  plain.  But  the  Indians 
did  not  stand.  With  answering  yells  they  scattered, 
and  occasionally  firing  backward  at  the  Pawnees  they 
scoured  away  —  the  Pawnees,  separating  into  their 
two  companies,  pursuing  madly. 

And  a  funny  sight  it  was,  too;  for  as  the  Pawnees 
rode,  they  kept  throwing  off  their  uniforms,  until 
pretty  soon  they  were  riding  in  only  their  trousers. 

"  B'  gorry !  "  Pat  panted,  as  he  and  the  general 
halted  near  Terry.  "  The  only  thing  I  have  ag'in  them 
Pawnees  is,  that  when  they  come  there's  nothin'  left 
for  the  Irish."  He  turned  on  the  general,  and  saluted 
—  coming  to  a  carry  arms,  with  his  left  arm  stiffly 
across  his  red-shirted  chest.  "  Track's  clear,  gin'ral." 

"  So  it  seems,"  laughed  General  Dodge.  "  Simpson 
and  Blair  might  as  well  come  in.  Now  let's  see  what 
the  damage  is."  His  sharp  eyes  fell  on  Terry,  stand- 


26  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

ing  fascinated.  "  What's  this  boy  doing  out  here  ? 
He  ought  to  be  under  cover." 

"  Sure,  he's  bigger'n  he  looks,"  apologized  Pat. 
"If  ye  could  have  seen  him  lift  at  a  tie  when  the 

engine  was  jest  onto  it !  He  earned  a  brevet  — 

but  I  thought  he  was  under  the  wheels  entoirely." 

"That's  the  kind  of  work  that  counts  —  but  I'll 
have  to  hear  about  it  later,"  answered  the  general. 
"  Now  let's  check  up  the  damage,  and  get  the  men  out 
again.  Where's  General  Casement?" 

"  He's  on  up  at  Julesburg,  sorr ;  him  and  Mr.  Reed, 
too.  But  I'm  thinkin'  they'll  both  be  back  in  a  jiffy." 

General  "Jack  "  Casement  was  the  chief  contractor 
—  the  head  boss  of  the  whole  construction.  Mr.  S.  B. 
Reed  was  the  general  superintendent  of  building. 
Yes,  they  doubtless  would  arrive  on  the  jump. 

The  two  companies  of  the  construction  gang  were 
brought  in,  for  the  Pawnees  had  chased  the  Sioux  and 
Cheyennes  out  of  sight.  Before  they  came  in,  them- 
selves, General  Dodge  and  Foreman  Pat  had  made 
their  inspection.  Three  men  badly  wounded,  here; 
several  slightly  wounded;  one  car  burned,  other  cars, 
and  the  engine,  riddled  and  scarred. 

But  within  half  an  hour  all  the  unhurt  men  had 
stacked  their  guns,  had  resumed  their  tools,  and  were 
out  on  the  grade,  ready  to  start  in,  just  as  though 
there  had  been  no  fight. 

Jenny  the  yellow  mule  had  a  bullet  hole  through 
her  ear;  Jimmie  Muldoon's  white  horse  was  dead;  but 
speedily  he  and  Terry  were  mounted  again,  waiting 
for  the  construction-train  to  finish  unloading,  and  for 
the  boarding-train  to  back  out  and  clear. 


"  TRACK'S  CLEAR  "  27 

That  was  the  system  of  the  U.  P.,  building  across 
the  plains  into  the  Far  West. 

"  Hey,  Jimmie!     Where  were  you?  "  hailed  Terry. 

"  I  got  behind  the  cook's  stove,"  piped  little  Jimmie, 
blushing  as  red  as  his  hair.  "  But  I  came  out  and 
handed  cartridges.  Weren't  you  afraid  ?  " 

"  I  dunno.     I  guess  I  was  too  excited." 

"  You  done  well,  anyhow,"  praised  Jimmie,  with 
disregard  of  grammar. 

General  Dodge  went  on  up  the  grade,  inspecting. 
The  three  men  in  city  clothes,  with  him,  were  Gen- 
eral J.  H.  Simpson,  of  the  United  States  Engineer 
Corps;  General  Frank  P.  Blair,  who  had  been  one  of 
the  youngest  major-generals  in  the  Civil  War;  and 
Congressman  H.  M.  White,  who  was  called  "  Major  " 
and  "  Doctor."  They  formed  a  board  of  inspectors, 
or  commissioners,  sent  out  by  the  Government  to 
examine  every  twenty  or  forty  miles  of  the  road,  when 
finished,  and  accept  it. 

The  United  States  was  lending  money  for  the  build- 
ing of  the  first  railroad  across  continent,  and  natu- 
rally wished  to  see  that  the  money  was  being  well 
spent. 

The  commissioners  traveled  in  a  special  coach, 
called  the  "  Lincoln  "  coach  because  it  had  been  made 
for  President  Abraham  Lincoln,  during  the  War. 
The  railroad  had  bought  it,  for  the  use  of  officials. 

Now  it  was  back  at  North  Platte,  the  terminus. 
When  the  commissioners  heard  of  the  fight,  they  had 
volunteered  to  come  along  with  General  Dodge  and 
help  out. 


28  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

"  Drill,  my  paddies,  drill ! 
Drill,  you  tarriers,  drill ! 
O,  it's  work  all  day, 
No  sugar  in  your  tay, 
Wor-rkin'  on  th'  U.  Pay.  Ra-a-ailway !  " 

The  construction-train  had  dumped  its  iron,  the 
boarding-train  had  backed  out,  and  Jimmie  and  Terry 
again  plied  back  and  forth,  with  the  rails. 

The  Pawnees  returned,  in  high  feather  like  a  lot 
of  boys  themselves.  They  certainly  were  fighters. 
Major  Frank  M.  North,  a  white  man,  was  their  com- 
mander. He  had  lived  among  them,  and  spoke  their 
language,  and  they'd  follow  him  to  the  death.  He 
had  enlisted  four  companies  —  drilled  them  as  regular 
cavalry,  according  to  army  regulations;  they  were 
sworn  into  the  United  States  Army  as  scouts,  and 
were  deadly  enemies  to  the  Sioux  and  the  Cheyennes. 
The  Sioux  and  Cheyennes  feared  them  so,  that  it  was 
said  a  company  of  North's  Pawnees  was  worth  more 
than  a  regiment  of  regular  soldiers.  When  these 
Pawnees  sighted  an  enemy,  they  simply  threw  off  their 
clothes  and  waded  right  in. 

The  two  companies,  A  and  B,  made  camp  on  the 
plains,  a  little  distance  off,  near  the  Platte  River. 
Major  North  and  Chief  Petalesharo  —  who  was  the 
war-chief  and  son  of  old  Petalesharo,  known  as  "  brav- 
est of  the  braves" — cantered  forward  to  the  track. 
The  major  wore  buckskin  and  long  hair,  like  a  fron- 
tiersman. Petalesharo  wore  army  pants  with  the  seat 
cut  out,  and  the  legs  sewed  tight,  same  as  leggins. 

"  Take  any  hair,  major.?  "  was  the  call. 


"  TRACK'S  CLEAR  "  29 

"  Yes ;  there  are  three  or  four  fresh  scalps  in  the 
camp  yonder.  But  most  of  the  beggars  got  away  too 
fast." 

"Say,  Pete!     Heap  fight,  what?" 

Petalesharo  smiled  and  grunted,  with  wave  of  hand. 

"  He  says  the  Sioux  ponies  have  long  legs,"  called 
Major  North.  "  Where's  the  general?  He  was  here, 
wasn't  he?" 

"  Yes;  he's  up  ahead,  with  the  graders." 

The  major  —  young  and  daring  and  very  popu- 
lar—  rode  on  with  Chief  "Pete,"  as  if  to  report  to 
General  Dodge. 

They  all  came  back  together,  after  a  time  —  and 
the  newly  laid  track  was  advancing  to  meet  them. 
Already  the  boarding-train  had  moved  up  a  notch. 
The  Pawnees  from  the  camp  were  scattered  along, 
watching  the  progress.  The  way  with  which  the 
white  man's  road  grew,  before  their  eyes,  seemed  to 
be  a  constant  marvel  to  them. 

"  Faith,  we'll  build  our  two  miles  this  day  in  spite 
o'  the  Injuns,"  cheered  the  sweaty  Pat,  everywhere 
at  once  and  urging  on  the  toiling  men. 

The  three  commissioners  were  as  interested  as  the 
Pawnees;  they  hung  around,  while  Chief  Engineer 
Dodge,  General  Jack  Casement  and  Supervising  En- 
gineer Reed  (who  had  arrived  horseback)  conferred 
in  the  headquarters  car. 

General  Simpson  and  Dr.  White  had  seen  the  track- 
laying  gang  at  work  last  year,  but  this  was  young 
General  Blair's  first  trip  out.  Now  while  he  was  here, 
three-quarters  of  a  mile  of  track  was  laid  before  the 


30  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

call  for  supper  sounded ;  and  as  the  men  rushed  to  meet 
the  train,  Engineer  Richards  unhooked  and  gave  the 
three  commissioners  a  ride  on  the  cow-catcher  to  the 
very  end  o'  track,  to  show  them  how  well  the  rails 
had  been  put  down. 

In  honor  of  the  commissioners,  after  supper  there 
was  a  parade  of  the  Pawnees,  under  Major  North 
and  the  white  captains  Lute  North  and  Mr.  Morse, 
Lieutenants  Beecher  and  Matthews,  and  Chief  Petale- 
sharo. 

A  great  parade  it  was,  too  — "  Might  call  it  a  dress 
p'rade,  and  ag'in  ye  might  call  it  an  undress  p'rade," 
as  Foreman  Pat  remarked.  The  Pawnees  were  in  all 
kinds  of  costume:  some  wore  cavalry  blouses  and 
left  their  legs  naked;  some  wore  cavalry  trousers 
with  the  seats  cut  out,  and  left  their  bodies  naked; 
some  wore  large  black  campaign  hats  of  Civil  War 
time,  with  brass  bugles  and  crossed  muskets  and 
crossed  cannon,  on  the  front;  some  wore  nothing  but 
breech  clouts,  and  brass  spurs  on  their  naked  heels; 
but  they  kept  excellent  line  and  wheeled  and  trotted 
at  word  of  command. 

They  broke  up  with  a  wild  yell,  and  away  they  went, 
careening  over  the  plain,  whooping  and  prancing  and 
shooting,  and  taking  scalps  —  chasing  the  "  Sioux." 

"  The  gin'ral  wants  to  see  you,"  ordered  Pat,  of 
Terry.  "  Ye'll  find  him  in  his  car  yon.  Now  stand 
on  your  feet  an'  take  off  your  hat  an'  do  the  polite, 
an'  mebbe  it's  promoted  you'll  be." 

So  Terry,  with  Shep  close  following,  trudged  down 
the  line  of  box  cars,  to  the  Chief  Engineer's  "  travel- 


"TRACK'S  CLEAR"  31 

ing  arsenal."  He  was  curious  to  see  the  inside  of  it. 
This  was  the  general's  home,  in  which  he  toured  up 
and  down  the  line,  from  Omaha  to  the  end  o'  track, 
caring  not  a  whit  for  the  Indians. 

It  was  fitted  up  inside  with  bunks  and  a  desk  and 
racked  guns,  and  a  forward  compartment  which  was 
dining-room  and  kitchen,  ruled  by  a  darky  cook. 
When  the  general  was  not  traveling  in  his  car,  he 
was  out  overseeing  the  surveys  far  beyond  the  rail- 
road; he  had  explored  through  the  plains  and  moun- 
tains to  Salt  Lake  long  before  the  railroad  had  started 
at  Omaha. 

The  whole  party  were  in  the  car ;  the  three  commis- 
sioners (General  Simpson  was  a  famous  explorer,  too), 
and  General  Casement,  and  Superintendent  Reed,  sit- 
ting with  General  Dodge.  Terry  removed  his  dusty 
hat,  and  stood  in  the  doorway.  Shep  stuck  his  black 
nose  past  his  legs,  to  gaze  and  sniff. 

"  Hello,  my  boy,"  General  Dodge  greeted. 

"  Pat  Miles  said  you  wanted  to  see  me,  sir." 

"  That's  right.  Come  in,  dog  and  all.  Gentlemen, 
this  is  Terry  Richards.  They  tell  me  he  risked  his 
life  to  save  the  boarding-train  from  being  wrecked 
during  the  Indian  attack.  I  move  that  we  all  shake 
hands  with  him." 

Terry,  considerably  flustrated,  had  his  hand  shaken, 
all  'round. 

"Well,  what's  your  job,  Terry?"  asked  General 
Dodge.  He  was  a  handsome  man,  every  inch  a  sol- 
dier, but  with  a  very  kind  eye  above  a  dark,  trimmed 
beard.  Nobody  could  feel  afraid  of  General  Dodge. 


32  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

"  I  help  bring  up  the  rails,  on  a  truck.  I  ride  a 
yellow  mule,  sir." 

"  You're  rather  a  big  boy  to  be  doing  that.'* 

"Yes,  sir;  but  that's  my  job.  Somebody  has  to 
do  it.  The  men  have  got  to  have  rails." 

"  Very  necessary,  in  building  a  railroad,"  laughed 
General  Blair. 

"  We  did  almost  two  miles  today,"  informed  Terry. 
"  We'd  have  done  two  miles  sure  if  the  Injuns  hadn't 
tried  to  stop  us." 

"  That's  the  right  spirit,"  approved  General  Simp- 
son. 

"  General  Casement  is  responsible  for  it,"  quickly 
spoke  Chief  Engineer  Dodge.  "  His  men  are  trained 
to  the  minute,  either  to  work  or  to  fight.  But  the 
Union  Pacific  Company  doesn't  overlook  individual 
acts  of  bravery.  What  would  you  like  to  do  instead 
of  riding  that  yellow  mule,  Terry?" 

"  I'd  like  to  be  out  in  front,  exploring  with  the  en- 
gineers, sir." 

"  Oh,  you  would !  "  General  Dodge's  eyes  kindled. 
Evidently  he  liked  that  kind  of  work,  himself. 
"Why?  It's  the  most  dangerous  job  of  all  —  away 
out  in  the  Indian  country,  with  only  a  handful  of 
men  and  maybe  no  help  except  your  own  guns." 

"  I  think  I'd  like  it,  though,"  stammered  Terry. 
"  If  I  could  be  any  use,  George  Stanton's  out  there 
somewhere." 

"Who's  George  Stanton?" 

"  He's  another  boy.  He's  my  pardner.  We  were 
station  hands  on  the  Overland  [that  was  the  stage  line] 
before  we  joined  the  railroad." 


'  TRACK'S  CLEAR"  33 

"Where  is  George?" 

"  I  don't  know,  exactly.  He  went  out  with  his 
father  in  Mr.  Bates'  survey  party,  as  a  sort  of  a  cub 
to  learn  engineering.  I  guess  he  cuts  stakes." 

"  Oh,  I  see.  The  Bates  party  are  bound  from 
Utah,  to  run  a  line  this  way.  But  they'll  not  be  back 
before  winter.  Probably  none  of  the  survey  parties 
will  turn  up  before  winter.  I'm  afraid  it's  too  late 
for  a  job  with  the  engineers  in  the  field,  this  year. 
Maybe  you'll  have  to  stick  to  your  old  mule,  and 
haul  rails  for  General  Casement." 

"  Well,  if  there's  nothing  better  I  can  do,"  agreed 
Terry.  "  It's  fun  to  help  the  track  go  forward,  any- 
how. We'll  beat  the  Central  folks." 

"  Yes,  siree !  "  General  Casement  declared.  He  was 
a  great  little  man,  this  General  "  Jack  "  Casement : 
a  wiry,  nervy,  snappy  little  man,  not  much  more  than 
five  feet  tall,  peaceful  weight  about  135  pounds  and 
fighting  weight  about  a  ton  — "  an'  sure  there's  sand 
enough  in  him  to  ballast  the  tracks  clear  to  Calif orny," 
Pat  asserted.  He  had  a  brown  beard  and  a  bold  blue 
eye  and  a  voice  like  a  whip-crack.  His  brother 
"  Dan  "  Casement  was  smaller  still,  outside,  but  just 
as  big  inside.  They  two  were  commanders  of  the 
grading  and  track-laying  outfits. 

"  There's  one  more  party  to  go  out  yet,"  General 
Dodge  suddenly  said;  ''and  that's  mine.  If  General 
Casement  will  lend  you  to  me,  maybe  I'll  have  a  place 
for  you.  We'll  see  if  we  can't  find  the  Bates  party, 
and  George  Stanton."  And  he  added,  with  a  smile, 
to  the  other  men :  "  A  fellow  can  always  use  a  boy, 
around  camp,  you  know,  gentlemen." 


34  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

"  Golly!     I'd  sure  like  to  go,  sir,"  Terry  blurted. 

"Were  you  ever  farther  west?" 

"  Yes,  sir.  I  helped  drive  stage,  when  I  was  work- 
ing for  the  Overland.  And  George  and  I  had  a  pass 
to  Salt  Lake,  but  George  broke  his  leg  up  on  the 
divide,  in  the  mountains,  so  we  quit  and  came  back." 

"  How  did  you  happen  to  get  a  pass  ?  " 

"  Just  for  something  we  did.  We  brought  a  stage 
through,  when  the  driver  was  near  frozen.  Twasn't 
much,  though.  But  we  were  glad  to  get  a  pass.  We'd 
never  been  west  over  the  line." 

"  How  far  east  have  you  been  over  this  line  ?  "  asked 
the  general,  keenly. 

"  North  Platte,  is  all.  I  joined  at  North  Platte, 
this  spring,  when  you  began  the  big  push  to  make 
290  miles  before  stopping  again." 

"  Two  hundred  and  eighty-eight,"  the  general  cor- 
rected. ''  That  will  take  us  to  Fort  Sanders  in  the 
Laramie  Plains.  But  I  think  you  ought  to  inspect 
what's  been  done  in  the  two  other  years.  It's  up  to 
the  Union  Pacific  to  treat  you  as  well  as  the  Overland 
treated  you.  Did  you  ever  ride  on  a  railroad  ?  " 

"  I  guess  I  did  when  I  was  little,  before  we  came 
out  to  Kansas.  We  drove  out  to  Kansas  from  Ohio 
in  1858;  but  after  that  Harry  Revere  and  I  drove 
across  to  Denver." 

"Who's  Harry  Revere?" 

"  He's  a  friend  of  George  and  me.  He  was  an 
Overland  man,  too  —  he  was  station  keeper  at  Beaver 
Creek  station  while  George  and  I  were  hostlers.  Then 
he  rode  Pony  Express  for  a  while,  between  Bijou 


"  TRACK'S  CLEAR  "  35 

Junction  and  Denver.  He's  a  dandy;  as  spunky  as  a 
badger.  He's  back  east  somewhere,  on  the  railroad, 
doing  telegraphing." 

"  You  build  railroads,  but  you  don't  travel  on  them, 
eh  ?  "  laughed  General  Blair. 

"  Yes,  sir.  All  I  do  is  haul  rails  and  watch  'em 
being  laid  —  but  the  graders  don't  even  see  the  rails. 
They  just  shovel  dirt." 

"  You'll  be  out  of  sight  of  the  rails  and  the  dirt, 
too,  if  you  go  on  that  western  trip  with  me,"  Gen- 
eral Dodge  said,  grimly.  "  So  first,  you'd  better  get  ac- 
quainted with  the  finished  end  and  see  what  those  rails 
that  you've  helped  lay  are  being  used  for.  Suppose 
you  stay  right  aboard  this  car  and  take  a  trip  back, 
of  a  couple  of  hundred  miles,  if  General  Casement 
will  spare  you." 

"  I'll  spare  him  if  you'll  spare  some  of  that  288 
miles,"  General  Casement  retorted.  "  You're  break- 
ing up  my  army." 

Evidently  even  a  boy  was  important,  these  days. 

"  Jimmie  Muldoon's  brother  will  spell  me,  while 
I'm  gone,"  Terry  proffered.  "  He  can  ride  my  mule. 
Her  name's  Jenny.  She's  smart.  She'd  do  the  haul- 
ing without  anybody  on  her." 

"  All  right.  You  make  your  arrangements  with 
Pat  and  Jimmie  Muldoon,  then,"  said  General  Case- 
ment. 

"  And  I  guess  I'll  ask  my  father." 

"Where's  he?" 

"  He's  the  engine  driver  for  the  boarding-train. 
That's  his  job,  because  he  got  crippled  up  in  the 


war." 


36  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

"Oh,  Ralph  Richards?"  queried  General  Dodge. 
"  He  was  one  of  my  soldiers,  in  that  same  war. 
You're  his  boy,  are  you?  Any  more  of  the  family 
on  the  U.  P.  ?  " 

"  My  mother's  down  at  Denver  still,  but  here's  my 
dog.  His  name's  Shep.  He'd  fight  Injuns,  only  to- 
day there  was  too  much  shooting,  so  he  stayed  in  the 
engine." 

"  Well,"  spoke  the  general,  "  you  see  your  father 
and  Pat  Miles  and  Jimmie  Muldoon ;  then  bring  your 
dog  and  come  along  back  to  the  car.  We're  going 
down  to  North  Platte  tonight,  and  tomorrow  I'll  take 
you  as  far  as  Kearney,  anyhow.  How'll  that  suit 
you?" 

"  Fine,  sir."  And  Terry  hustled  out,  his  head  in  a 
whirl  of  excitement. 

Matters  were  speedily  fixed;  but  before  he  could 
return  dusk  had  settled  over  the  great  expanse  of 
lonely  plains.  The  Pawnees  were  on  guard.  Far  up 
the  grade  a  few  lights  twinkled,  from  the  graders' 
camps.  Already  the  track-layer  gang  were  going  to 
bed ;  some  inside  the  boarding-train,  some  on  top,  some 
underneath  —  just  as  they  all  pleased. 

Ordinarily  Terry  would  have  spread  his  blankets 
on  top,  where  there  was  plenty  of  fresh  air.  How- 
ever, this  night  he  was  to  be  a  guest  of  the  big  chief, 
General  Dodge  himself,  in  the  headquarters  car,  for 
a  trip  over  the  new  U.  P.  Railroad,  to  see  that  the 
rails  were  O.  K. 

And  so  was  Shep.  Shep  usually  tried  to  go  wher- 
ever Terry  went  —  except,  of  course,  when  guns  were 
banging  too  recklessly. 


"TRACK'S  CLEAR "  37 

TKe  men  were  still  up,  in  the  rear  or  office  end  of 
the  headquarters  car,  talking  together. 

"  The  rest  of  us  won't  turn  in  till  we're  back  at 
North  Platte,"  the  general  explained.  "I've  had  a 
bunk  opened  for  you,  up  forward.  Do  you  think  you 
can  sleep  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  .  I  can  always  sleep,"  Terry  assured. 

"  All  right.  Good  night.  You  won't  miss  much. 
We'll  probably  lie  over  at  North  Platte  till  morning." 

The  bunk  was  a  clever  arrangement.  During  the 
day  it  was  folded  against  the  side  of  the  car  and  no- 
body would  know  it  was  there.  At  night  it  was  let 
down,  and  hung  flat  with  a  curtain  in  front  of  it. 
The  car  probably  had  several  such  bunks.  They  were 
something  new,  the  invention  of  a  Mr.  Pullman;  and 
when  Terry  climbed  into  his,  he  found  it  mighty  com- 
fortable. Shep  curled  underneath,  between  the  seats. 

Lying  snug  and  warm,  Terry  prepared  to  calm  him- 
self, and  sleep ;  but  the  future  looked  very  bright.  He 
caught  his  thoughts  surging  ahead,  upon  the  survey 
trip  half  promised  by  the  general:  maybe  clear  to 
Utah,  exploring  and  finding  George  and  the  Bates 
party.  Hooray!  Indians,  bear  and  buffalo,  new 
country  — !  Pshaw !  He  was  getting  wide  awake. 
He  ought  to  sleep.  So  he  began  to  figure. 

Over  300  miles,  so  far,  by  the  Union  Pacific,  in  the 
two  years  and  a  quarter;  700  miles  yet  to  Salt  Lake, 
and  then  as  much  farther  as  they  could  get  before 
meeting  the  Central!  The  general  had  planned  to 
lay  nearly  300  miles  more  —  288  anyway  —  this  year ! 
Whew!  Forty  car-loads  of  supplies  to  every  mile; 


38  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

400  rails  and  2,650  ties  to  every  mile ;  ten  spikes  to 
each  rail,  three  blows  of  the  sledge  to  each  spike  — 
then  how  many  rails,  how  many  ties,  how  many  sledge 
blows,  how  many  galloping  charges  back  and  forth 
of  Jenny  and  the  little  truck,  to  cross  plains  and  des- 
erts and  mountains  and  win  the  race  with  the  Central  ? 

This  tour  by  train  was  going  to  be  nice  enough,  but 
it  seemed  tame  compared  with  end  o'  track  work,  and 
with  surveying.  And  the  laying  of  the  track  looked 
to  be  such  a  big  job  that  perhaps  General  Casement 
couldn't  spare  him  again.  Shucks! 

While  figuring  and  bothering,  Terry  fell  asleep. 
He  did  not  know  that  his  trip  east  and  back  was  not 
going  to  be  as  tame  as  it  appeared  in  advance. 


CHAPTER  IV 

DOWN    THE   LINE AND   BACK 

SOMETIME  in  the  night  he  knew  that  they  were  in 
motion  —  the  engine  was  pushing  them  along,  over 
the  track.  But  when  he  really  woke  up,  they  were 
standing  still,  in  daylight.  North  Platte,  as  like  as 
not ;  or  maybe  Kearney.  No,  it  couldn't  be  Kearney, 
could  it,  for  Kearney  was  100  miles  and  more,  and  that 
seemed  a  long  way  to  go,  in  just  one  night.  At  any 
rate,  they  were  standing  in  some  town;  there  was  a 
lot  of  noise  outside,  of  shouting  and  engine-puffing 
and  feet-scuffling.  So  he  put  on  his  clothes  in  a  jiffy 
and  jumped  down  through  the  curtains. 

By  the  rattle  of  dishes  and  the  smell  of  bacon 
the  cook  was  getting  breakfast,  but  the  main  part 
of  the  car  was  empty.  Everybody  had  left.  Seemed 
as  though  General  Dodge  didn't  take  time  to  sleep, 
himself,  for  no  other  bunk  was  open.  Here  came  old 
Shep,  yawning,  from  his  night's  quarters.  Terry 
hastened  to  the  platform,  to  find  where  they  were. 

North  Platte,  sure.  They'd  come  only  sixty  or 
seventy  miles,  and  must  have  been  lying  here  quite  a 
while.  Yes,  it  was  North  Platte,  on  the  south  bank  of 
the  North  Platte  River  just  above  where  the  North 
Platte  joined  the  South  Platte  to  help  make  the  big 
Platte. 

39 


40  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

North  Platte  was  the  end  of  the  road,  for  traffic; 
the  terminal  point,  that  is.  The  freight  and  passenger 
trains  from  Omaha,  293  miles,  stopped  here  and  went 
back;  only  the  construction  trains  went  on,  with  sup- 
plies for  end  o'  track.  But  North  Platte  was  consider- 
able of  a  place  —  and  an  awful  tough  place,  too, 
plumb  full  of  gambling  joints  and  saloons. 

It  had  started  up  in  a  hurry,  last  December,  when 
the  road  had  reached  it  and  had  made  a  terminal 
point  and  supply  depot  of  it,  for  the  winter.  There 
hadn't  been  a  thing  here,  except  a  prairie-dog  town  — 
and  in  three  weeks  there  had  been  a  brick  round- 
house to  hold  forty  engines,  and  a  station  house,  and 
a  water  tank  heated  by  a  stove  so  it  wouldn't  freeze,  and 
a  big  hotel  to  cost  $18,000,  and  a  knock-down  ware- 
house (the  kind  that  could  be  taken  apart  and  fitted 
together  again)  almost  as  large,  for  the  Casement 
Brothers,  and  fifteen  or  sixteen  other  business  build- 
ings, and  over  a  thousand  people,  including  gamblers 
and  saloon  keepers,  living  in  all  kinds  of  board  and 
sheet-iron  and  canvas  shacks. 

When  Terry  had  joined  the  road,  at  the  close  of 
winter,  North  Platte  boasted  2,000  people,  counting 
the  graders  and  track-layers,  and  was  a  "  roaring  " 
town.  There  was  some  talk  of  making  it  the  head- 
quarters of  the  Union  Pacific,  instead  of  Omaha. 

It  used  to  be  livelier  at  night  than  in  the  day-time, 
even;  but  it  certainly  was  lively  enough  this  morning. 
A  long  freight  train  was  unloading  ties  and  iron,  to  be 
added  to  the  great  collection  of  ties  and  iron  already 
waiting  for  the  haul  onward  to  the  next  supply  dump, 


DOWN  THE  LINE  — AND  BACK         41 

toward  end  o'  track.  A  passenger  train  had  pulled 
in  from  Omaha.  The  passengers  were  trooping  to 
the  Railroad  House  (which  was  the  name  of  the  $18,- 
ooo  hotel)  or  to  the  eating-room  in  the  Casement 
Brothers'  portable  warehouse,  or  bargaining  to  be  taken 
by  wagons  across  the  South  Platte  ford,  where  the 
Overland  Stage  for  Denver  connected  with  the  rail- 
road. 

As  fast  as  the  Union  Pacific,  on  the  north  side  of 
the  Platte  River,  lengthened  its  passenger  haul  from 
Omaha,  on  the  south  side  of  the  Platte  River  the 
Overland  Stage  shortened  its  haul  to  Denver  and  Salt 
Lake. 

After  a  while  there  would  be  no  stage  haul  needed, 
through  this  country.  The  stages  would  run  only  be- 
tween Denver  and  wherever  the  railroad  passed  by, 
north  of  it;  and  people  would  go  through  from  the 
Missouri  River  in  two  days  instead  of  in  six. 

An  engine  and  tender  backed  up  and  hooked  on 
to  the  Dodge  car;  a  fine-looking  car,  which  must  be 
the  Lincoln  car  for  the  Government  commissioners, 
had  been  coupled  on,  behind.  While  Terry  gazed 
about,  from  his  platform,  trying  to  take  in  all  the 
sights,  here  came  General  Dodge  and  Superintendent 
Reed,  as  if  in  a  hurry. 

"  All  aboard !  "  The  general  waved  his  arm  at  the 
engineer,  as  he  sprang  up  the  steps.  To  ring  of  bell 
and  hiss  of  exhaust  the  little  train  started.  There 
was  no  time  lost. 

"  Hello,  young  man,"  the  general  greeted,  to  Terry. 
"Ready  for  the  day?" 


42  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  I  expect  you'd  like  to  begin  with  breakfast.  So 
would  Mr.  Reed  and  I.  We've  made  one  beginning 
but  we'll  make  another.  We  all  can  eat  and  watch 
things  go  past  at  the  same  time.5' 

Decidedly,  it  was  fun  to  sit  at  a  table  and  eat  while 
whirled  along  across  country  at  a  tremendous  pace, 
with  the  landscape  flitting  by  in  plain  sight  just  out- 
side the  windows. 

"  How  fast  are  we  going  now,  please?  "  Terry  ven- 
tured. 

The  general  looked  at  his  watch  a  minute,  and  seemed 
to  be  listening. 

"  About  twenty-five  miles  an  hour,  I  should  judge. 
Is  that  right,  Sam?" 

"  Pretty  nearly  right,"  agreed  Superintendent  Reed. 

Whew !  And  when  Ben  Holladay,  the  King  of  the 
Overland  Stage,  had  made  fourteen  miles  in  an  hour 
with  his  special  coach  and  a  special  team  of  fours, 
that  had  seemed  like  a  lightning  trip. 

They  had  thundered  over  the  long  bridge  above  the 
North  Platte  River,  and  were  scooting  eastward,  paral- 
lel with  the  main  Platte.  From  across  the  river  the 
emigrants  who  still  stuck  to  their  slow  prairie  schoon- 
ers or  covered  wagons,  waved  at  the  train.  At  a  safe 
distance  some  antelope  fled,  flashing  their  white  rumps. 
Prairie  dogs  sat  up  at  the  mouth  of  their  burrows,  to 
gaze. 

Once  in  a  while  a  ranch,  with  low  adobe  build- 
ings, might  be  seen,  south  of  the  river;  and  an  old 
stage  station  there,  before  or  behind,  was  almost  al- 


DOWN  THE  LINE  — AND  BACK         43 

ways  in  sight.  The  Overland  had  quit  running,  east 
of  Cottonwood  station,  near  North  Platte. 

On  this  side  of  the  river  there  was  not  much  to  see, 
except  the  railroad  telegraph  poles,  and  the  prairie 
dogs,  and  the  line  of  rails  that  stretched  clear  to  Omaha 
on  the  Missouri  River,  and  a  side-station  of  one  little 
building  which  slipped  by  so  quickly  that  Terry  could 
not  read  the  sign. 

The  general  and  Superintendent  Reed  went  back  into 
the  Lincoln  car,  to  talk  with  the  commissioners  there. 
They  left  the  headquarters  car  to  Terry,  Shep  and  the 
black  cook. 

"How  you  like  this  sort  o'  travel,  boy?"  queried 
the  cook,  as  he  tidied  the  car  with  a  dust-rag. 

"  We're  sure  moving,"  Terry  grinned.  "  It  beats 
staging.  How  fast  are  we  going  now,  do  you  think?  " 

"  Oh,  mebbe  thirty  miles  an  houah.  Reckon  we 
gotto  meet  'nother  train.  This  heah  road  is  shy  on 
meetin'  places  yet.  But,  sho',  thirty  miles  ain't  nothin', 
boy.  When  the  gin'ral  heahs  somethin'  callin'  him,  he 
jest  tells  this  old  cah  to  step  on  the  injine's  tail,  an' 
—  woof !  'Way  we  go,  fifty,  mebbe  fifty-five  miles  an 
houah!  Yessuh.  Sometimes  the  gin'ral  he  likes  to 
show  off  a  bit,  too,  when  there's  gover'ment  folks 
abohd.  He  shuah  gives  'em  a  ride,  so  they'll  know 
this  ain't  any  play  road,  down  today  an'  up  tomorrow. 
Where  you  from  ?  " 

"  End  o'  track,"  answered  Terry. 

"What  you  do  there?" 

"  Haul  rails." 

:t  Was  you  up  there  yestuhday,  when  -they  fit  the  In- 
juns?" 


44  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

"  You  bet.  They  found  we  were  bad  medicine, 
too.  They  almost  set  the  boarding-train  on  fire, 
though.  That  was  a  right  smart  fight,  till  the  gen- 
eral and  the  Pawnees  came  and  drove  'em  off  in  a 

jiffy." 

"  Hi  yi !  "  the  cook  chuckled.  "  We-all  had  jest 
got  into  Nohth  Platte  when  the  gin'ral,  he  heard  about 
it.  He's  a  powerful  fightin'  man,  the  gin'ral  is.  He's 
fit  Injuns  a  lot  o'  times  befoh.  An'  those  commish- 
ners,  they're  fightin'  men,  too ;  they  done  fit  in  the  wah. 
An'  there  was  a  passel  o'  seemed  like  white  trash 
here,  who  was  quittin'  work  on  the  road  because 
they'd  got  paid  off.  But  the  gin'ral,  he  calls  out: 
'  You  boys,  the  Injuns  are  'tackin'  our  camps  up  the 
road.  Pile  in,  if  you  want  to  go  with  me.'  An'  they 
shuah  piled  in,  every  last  one  of  'em,  same  as  though 
they  hadn't  quit  the  road  at  all.  Yessuh!  An'  when 
they  piled  in,  this  chile  he  piled  out,  t'other  end.  He 
guessed  like  he  wasn't  needed.  Hi  yi !  No,  suh ! 
He's  got  too  much  scalp.  His  hair  ain't  like  white 
man's  hair;  it's  same  length  all  ovuh  his  haid." 

"  Indians  don't  scalp  negroes.  They  can't.  And 
they  think  it's  bad  medicine,"  said  Terry.  "They 
call  you  buffalo  soldiers." 

"  I  ain't  no  buff'lo  soldiers.  I'm  a  cook,  an'  I 
knowed  they  didn't  want  no  cook  up  yonduh,"  the 
darky  retorted.  "  Yessuh.  An'  in  case  it  come  on 
night,  Injuns  might  not  make  any  diff'rence  'tween  a 
white  man  an'  a  black  man.  No,  suh." 

"  Not  unless  they  felt  your  hair,"  laughed  Terry. 

The  cook  seemed  to  turn  a  shade  pale. 


DOWN  THE  LINE  — AND  BACK         45 

"No  Injun's  gwine  to  feel  my  hair.  No,  suh! 
Not  unless  he  can  outrun  this  heah  train;  an'  then 
when  he  reaches  in  he's  got  to  catch  me,  foh  if  I  once 
get  out  the  othuh  end  —  oh,  boy!  I'd  jest  hit  the 
ground  twice  between  the  train  an'  Omaha.  The  In- 
juns'd  be  sayin'  '  There  he  goes  '  the  same  time  Omaha 
was  sayin' '  Heah  he  comes ! '  Yessuh !  I'm  powerful 
scared  o'  Injuns.  It's  gwine  to  be  a  mighty  bad  yeah, 
foh  Injuns,  too." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  'Cause  I  heard  the  gin'ral  sayin'  so.  I  heard  him 
say  he'd  asked  foh  moh  soldiers,  to  guard  the  line  cl'ar 
to  the  mountings.  Yessuh.  He's  asked  Gin'ral  Sher- 
man. How  far  you  gwine  ?  " 

"I    dunno.     To   Omaha,   maybe.     Why?" 

"Got  some  kin  there?" 

"  No.     I'm  riding  for  fun." 

"  Youridin'  foh  fun?" 

"  Yes." 

"When  you  get  to  Omaha,  then  you  gwine  back 
where  you  come  from?" 

"  Sure  thing.     I've  got  a  job,  at  end  o'  track." 

"  Don't  you  do  it ;  don't  you  do  it,  boy,"  advised  the 
cook,  as  darkly  as  his  face.  "  Don't  you  ride  'round 
these  pahts  foh  fun.  No,  suh!  An'  don't  you  staht 
back  from  Omaha  till  Gin'ral  Sherman's  soldiers  have 
killed  ev'ry  one  o'  them  Injuns.  Yessuh!  You  let 
Gin'ral  Sherman  an'  Gin'ral  Dodge  'tend,  to  one  end 
o'  track,  an'  you  get  a  job  at  t'other  end." 

Terry  had  to  laugh,  but  the  cook's  words  struck 
home.  Matters  looked  bad.  The  Indians  had  started 


46  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

in,  that  was  certain;  and  everybody  appeared  to  think 
that  this  was  an  "  Injun  "  year.  Somehow,  he  felt 
that  he  was  deserting  his  post.  He  was  leaving  Paddy 
Miles  and  the  gang  to  their  troubles,  and  was  making 
for  safety,  himself. 

"When  do  we  stop  next?"  he  asked. 

"  I  dunno.  Mebbe  we'll  stop  at  Willow  Island,  foh 
ohduhs;  an'  mebbe  we'll  stop  at  Kearney.  Jest  de- 
pends on  the  gin'ral.  We  stop  whenever  we  please,  or 
whenever  the  injineer  needs  wood  an'  watuh,  or  when- 
ever we  got  to  meet  'nothuh  train." 

"How  far  is  Kearney?" 

"  Hundred  miles  from  Nohth  Platte.  We'll  get 
there  befoh  noon,  an'  we'll  get  to  Omaha  befoh  dark. 
Yessuh,  we'll  travel  right  along." 

The  cook  went  on  about  his  business,  and  Terry 
stared  out  at  the  flying  country,  which  danced  a  reel 
in  tune  with  the  roaring  wheels.  This  was  great  fun, 
of  course,  to  be  speeding  over  the  new  Union  Pacific 
Railroad,  in  a  private  car,  but !  And  he  won- 
dered how  Jenny  and  Jimmie  Muldoon's  brother  were 
holding  down  the  job  at  end  o'  track. 

With  a  swoop  and  a  whistle  they  rushed  past  a  long 
freight  train,  waiting  on  a  siding.  At  every  siding 
there  was  one  of  these  long  freights,  plumb  loaded 
and  headed  west,  or  partly  empty  and  headed  east. 

They  might  get  a  glimpse  of  Fort  McPherson,  at 
Cottonwood  Springs  on  the  stage  road  along  the  other 
side  of  the  river.  Then  they  whirled  right  through 
Brady  Island  station  of  the  railroad.  But  stop  they 
did  at  Willow  Island,  which  bore  the  same  name  as 
the  old  Overland  station,  across  from  it. 


DOWN  THE  LINE  — AND  BACK         47 

The  station  buildings,  except  the  station-house  it- 
self, were  of  sod,  and  loop-holed  so  as  to  fight  off 
the  Indians.  They  looked  like  a  fort.  A  lot  of  cedar 
bridge-piles  and  telegraph  poles  and  cottonwood  ties 
were  stacked  here,  brought  in  by  ranchers'  wagons  from 
the  places  where  they  had  been  cut.  The  road  didn't 
get  much  of  such  stuff,  on  these  bare  plains,  but  once 
in  a  while  there  was  a  valley  or  some  bottom-land  with 
a  little  timber  growing.  Cedar  ties  and  cottonwood 
ties  were  no  good,  though,  until  they  were  soaked  in 
zinc,  to  make  them  hard  and  lasting.  The  best  ties 
came  from  Missouri,  Iowa  and  Wisconsin. 

The  next  stop  was  at  Plum  Creek,  also  named  for 
the  old  stage  station,  opposite ;  then  there  was  a  pause 
on  a  side-track,  to  let  another  train  by;  and  they  were 
off  again.  It  certainly  was  fast  work. 

General  Dodge  entered  his  headquarters  car. 

"  How  do  you  like  railroading,  now  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Fine,  sir.     We  go  some,  don't  we !  " 

"  Rather  beat  the  stages,  or  your  old  yellow  mule, 
that's  a  fact,"  the  general  admitted.  "  But  if  it  wasn't 
for  you  fellows  that  lay  the  track  in  such  good  shape, 
we  couldn't  go  at  all." 

"  And  the  men  who  discover  the  trail  —  they  count 
a  heap,  too,  I  guess,"  Terry  added. 

"  Yes,  siree.  The  surveyors'  job  is  the  most  ticklish 
job,  especially  out  on  the  desert  and  in  the  mountains. 
Track-layers,  graders,  and  surveyors  —  they're  all 
heroes.  They  do  the  hard  work,  but  the  people  who 
never  see  them  don't  think  of  them.  Well,  will  you 
stay  aboard  into  Omaha  ?  " 


48  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

"  Would  I  be  a  long  time  getting  back  ?  "  Terry 
queried. 

"  No,  sir ;  not  unless  the  road  is  tied  up  by  Indian 
trouble.  I'll  put  you  on  a  train  and  send  you  right 
through  to  North  Platte;  then  you  can  jump  a  con- 
struction-train, and  keep  going  to  end  of  track  again. 
You'll  have  your  pass." 

"  Where  do  we  stop  next,  please  ?  "  Terry  asked. 

"  At  Kearney.  We'll  be  there  in  about  an  hour. 
You  can  get  off  and  stretch  your  legs,  and  so  can  the 
dog." 

"  Could  I  go  back  from  Kearney?  "  Terry  blurted. 

"  Oh,  pshaw !  "  And  the  general's  eyes  twinkled. 
"  You  aren't  homesick  already,  are  you  ?  You  might 
have  to  wait  there  until  two  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
for  the  passenger  train.  You  could  catch  the  same 
train  farther  down  the  line.  No;  you'd  better  ride 
on  to  Omaha,  and  see  the  whole  system  that  you've 
helped  build." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  agreed  Terry  —  but  somehow  he  felt  a 
little  doubtful.  If  he  should  be  kept  at  Omaha,  on 
account  of  Indian  trouble  —  oh,  that  wouldn't  do  at  all. 
His  place  was  at  the  front. 

Kearney  had  been  named  for  old  Fort  Kearney, 
across  the  river.  It  wasn't  much  of  a  place,  yet :  just 
the  station  and  a  store  and  scattering  of  small  houses. 
There  were  several  soldiers  from  the  fort  standing 
around.  General  Dodge  and  Superintendent  Reed 
had  jumped  off  and  seemed  to  be  having  business  with 
an  officer,  while  the  engine  took  on  water;  so  Terry 
and  Shep  jumped  off,  too.  Then  a  man  came  running 


DOWN  THE  LINE  — AND  BACK         49 

from  the  station  door,  with  a  piece  of  yellow  paper 
—  a  telegram  —  for  the  engineer. 

He  was  a  lively  young  man,  with  a  limp.  Staring, 
Terry  scarcely  could  believe  his  eyes.  Now  he,  too, 
ran,  yelling,  and  Shep  bolted  ahead,  barking,  and  they 
caught  the  young  man,  who  turned,  astonished. 

Yes,  it  was  Harry  Revere,  all  right  —  good  old 
Harry,  ex-school  teacher,  ex-Pike's  Peaker,  ex-pros- 
pector, ex-Pony  Express  rider,  ex-Overland  Stage  sta- 
tion-keeper, and  a  dandy  partner. 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  what  you  doing  here  ?  "  he  de- 
manded, as  they  shook  hands. 

"  Oh,  I'm  traveling  special,  inspecting  the  U.  P.," 
grinned  Terry.  "  What  you  doing?  " 

"  I'm  the  boss  lightning-shooter  at  this  shebang," 
proclaimed  Harry.  "  You  couldn't  travel  at  all,  if  it 
wasn't  for  me.  See?  Wait  till  I  deliver  this  dis- 
patch." 

In  a  moment  he  came  back. 

"  Thought  you  were  somewhere  down  the  line 
farther;  thought  you  were  in  Omaha,  maybe,"  said 
Terry. 

"  So  I  was,  but  I'm  getting  promoted  out  toward  the 
front.  That's  where  I  want  to  be.  I  won't  stop  till 
I'm  clear  through  to  Salt  Lake.  But  where  you  go- 
ing? Thought  you  had  a  job  at  the  front,  yourself? 
How's  Jenny?  [Jenny  really  was  Harry's  mule,  but 
she  was  working  for  the  company.]  How  are  your 
folks?" 

"  They're  all  right.  So's  Jenny.  Jimmie  Muldoon's 
brother  is  riding  her  and  spelling  me.  I'm  going  to 
Omaha.  General  Dodge  invited  me." 


50  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

"You  haven't  quit  ?" 

"  No.     I'm  just  on  a  little  trip." 

"What  do  you  want  to  go  on  to  Omaha  for?" 
scolded  Harry.  "  Shucks !  This  is  no  time  to  take 
it  easy,  when  we're  trying  to  make  a  big  year.  I  want 
to  be  at  the  front,  myself.  There's  nothing  between 
here  and  Omaha.  Where's  George  ?  " 

"  He's  on  survey,  'way  out." 

"  Wish  I  was  with  him,"  asserted  Harry.  "  But 
I'm  getting  along,  by  hops  and  skips.  I  don't  savvy 
why  you  want  to  go  to  Omaha,  when  you  were  at  the 
front,  yourself,  with  Jenny." 

"  I  don't  want  to  go,  Harry,"  Terry  confessed. 
"  Gee,  I'd  like  to  be  back  already.  General  Dodge 
has  asked  me,  though ;  I  guess  he  thinks  it's  a  treat  for 
me  to  ride  to  Omaha.  I'm  sick  of  loafing  —  I've 
been  gone  a  night  and  half  a  day,  now,  and  I  ought 
to  be  back,  in  case  they  need  me." 

"Bully  for  you,"  Harry  praised.  "I'll  tell  you: 
You  stop  off  here  with  me,  for  a  couple  of  hours.  You 
can  explain  to  the  general  that  you'd  rather  stay  and 
visit  me  than  go  on  to  Omaha.  You  won't  have  to 
wait  for  the  passenger  train.  No,  sir!  I'll  fix  you 
out." 

"  I'll  ask  him,"  answered  Terry,  on  the  run  again. 

The  general  seemed  to  understand  perfectly. 

"  You  see,  sir,"  Terry  finished,  "  I'd  like  to  be  on  the 
job  till  you  come  through  next  time,  and  then  maybe 
I  can  get  off  to  go  out  on  that  survey  trip,  if  you  have 
room  for  me.  I'd  rather  find  George  Stanton  than 
go  to  Omaha.  I  like  the  front,  and  I've  seen  a  whole 
lot  of  the  road,  now." 


DOWN  THE  LINE  — AND  BACK         51 

"  That's  all  right,"  General  Dodge  approved.  "  The 
front's  the  best  place.  You  stay  there,  and  keep  your 
share  of  the  rails  moving  up.  We  can't  run  trains 
without  rails,  and  unless  we  have  the  rails  we  can't  get 
to  Salt  Lake  and  beat  the  Central.  So  good-by  and 
good  luck.  I'll  have  a  wire  sent  to  your  father  that 
you've  turned  back." 

"  Please  tell  him  to  tell  Pat  Miles  that  I'll  be  there 
tomorrow  morning  sure,  and  I'll  want  my  mule  and 
truck,"  Terry  begged. 

The  general  laughed.  He  and  Mr.  Reed  boarded 
their  train  and  it  pulled  out.  Terry  and  Shep  found 
Harry  Revere  in  the  operator's  room  of  the  passenger 
station  —  which  also  was  the  station  agent's  room. 

"  What  do  you  have  to  do,  Harry?  " 

"  Nothing  much.  I  only  sell  tickets  and  check  up 
freight  and  bill  express  and  send  dispatches  and  read 
the  wire  and  wrestle  baggage  and  sweep  out  and  answer 
questions  and  once  in  a  while  tend  some  woman's 
baby  while  she  goes  home  after  something  she's  for- 
gotten. When  there's  nothing  more  important,  I  eat 
or  sleep.  But  I'm  hoping  to  push  on  up  front,  where 
it's  lively.  I  aim  to  get  to  Salt  Lake  as  soon  as  the 
rails  and  poles  do.  Were  you  in  that  Injun  fracas  at 
end  o'  track,  yesterday?" 

"  I  shore  was.     How'd  you  hear?  " 

"  I  picked  it  off  the  wire.  I  just  sat  here  and  made 
medicine  while  you-all  fought.  Nobody  scalped,  was 
there?  Did  they  hurt  Jenny?  I  asked  the  North 
Platte  operator  and  he  laughed  at  me.  '  Ha,  ha ! '  was 
all  he  said." 


52  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

"  Nope ;  nobody  scalped,  except  a  couple  of  the 
Sioux.  They  put  a  hole  through  Jenny's  ear,  though." 

"  The  low-down  villains ! "  grumbled  Harry. 
"Abused  the  beautiful  ear  of  my  Jenny,  did  they? 
When  I  come  along  I'll  bring  her  an  earring.  Reckon 
a  little  bale  of  hay  would  please  her  most:  an  earring 
to  represent  a  little  bale  of  hay.  And  a  cob  of  corn 
for  the  other  ear,  if  she  gets  a  hole  through  that  too. 
Say,"  he  asked,  "  you  didn't  see  Sol  Judy  in  those  parts, 
did  you?" 

"  No.     Is  Sol  around  there?  " 

"  Yep.  He's  a  scout  at  Fort  McPherson,  helping 
guard  the  line."  That  was  good  news.  Sol  Judy  was 
another  old  friend.  He  dated  away  back  to  the  Kansas 
ranch,  where  he'd  appeared  on  his  way  from  California. 
And  he'd  been  with  them  in  the  Colorado  gold  diggin's, 
and  had  driven  stage  and  scouted  along  the  Overland; 
and  now  here  he  was  again,  still  doing  his  share  of 
work  while  the  country  grew. 

"  Our  whole  family's  joining  in  with  the  U.  P.,  looks 
like,"  Harry  added. 

"  All  except  my  mother  and  George's  mother  and 
Virgie."  Virgie  was  George  Stanton's  sister.  "  And 
I  bet  you  they'll  be  on  the  job  some  way,  before  we  get 
done  with  it." 

"  You  win,"  Harry  chuckled.     "  That's  their  style  - 
right    up    and    coming.     Well,    let's    go    to    dinner. 
How'd  you  like  fried  ham  and  saleratus  biscuits?  " 

"  Fine." 

"  Good.  Yesterday  I  had  saleratus  biscuits  and 
fried  ham,  today  we'll  have  fried  ham  and  saleratus 


DOWN  THE  LINE  —  AND  BACK          53 

biscuits;  tomorrow  there'll  be  just  biscuits  and  ham. 
It's  a  great  system." 

They  ate  in  the  section  house,  at  a  board  table 
covered  with  oilcloth.  After  dinner  they  swapped 
yarns  and  visited,  while  Harry  busied  himself  dispatch- 
ing or  attending  to  the  people  who  dropped  in.  A 
passenger  train  from  the  west  came  through,  and  a 
freight. 

About  three  o'clock  Harry  took  another  message, 
and  reported  on  it. 

"  Now  you  can  get  out  of  here.  There'll  be  a  freight 
along  in  about  half  an  hour."  That  was  welcome 
news. 

"  From  the  east,  you  mean?  " 

"  Yep." 

"Hooray,"  Terry  cheered.  "I'll  be  on  the  job 
again  in  the  morning." 

But  Harry  scowled  as  he  jiggled  his  telegraph  key. 

"  Dead  once  more,"  he  complained. 

"Who?" 

"  The  line  west." 

"  Maybe  the  operator  up  there's  asleep." 

"  No.  It's  lack  of  juice.  I  can  tell.  Something's 
busted." 

"Injuns  did  it,  huh?" 

"  Naw,  don't  think  so.  Ever  since  that  buck  tore 
a  wire  out  and  tried  to  ride  off  with  it,  and  lightning 
struck  the  line  a  mile  or  so  beyond  and  killed  him 
and  his  pony  both,  the  Injuns  have  let  the  Talking 
Spirit  alone.  'Cept  of  course  they  shoot  the  insulators 
off,  now  and  then.  And  the  Overlanders  chop  the 


54  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

poles  for  firewood  and  use  a  piece  of  wire  when  they 
want  to  fix  their  wagons.  At  least,  they  do  that  on 
the  other  side  the  river,  and  I  reckon  they  reach  over 
and  do  it  on  this  side.  And  the  poles  make  mighty 
fine  scratch  sticks  for  the  buffalo  to  rub  against." 

The  Overland  Telegraph  Company's  line  across  con- 
tinent followed  the  stage  road,  south  of  the  Platte; 
the  Union  Pacific  Railroad  line  followed  the  rails  on 
this  side  of  the  river.  But  when  the  railroad  was 
finished,  there  would  likely  be  only  the  one  line. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  Terry  asked. 

"  Find  Bill  Thompson.  The  break's  between  here 
and  Willow." 

"Who's  Bill  Thompson?" 

"  Head  lineman.  He'll  have  to  get  out  and  fix  it. 
You  stay  here  and  keep  shop  while  I  hunt  Bill." 

"  Supposing  the  freight  comes  along,"  queried 
Terry.  "Do  I  jump  it?" 

"  Nary  a  jump,"  Harry  answered,  from  the  door. 
"  Let  her  come.  She  dassn't  run  through  without 
orders  from  the  boss,  and  that's  Harry  Revere,  chief 
lightning-shooter,  station-agent,  ticket-seller,  express- 
toter,  freight-slinger,  baggage-wrecker  and  baby- 
tender.  I'll  be  back  and  tell  'em  what  to  do." 

He  was  gone  about  twenty  minutes,  and  returned 
considerably  flustered. 

"  Bill's  fishing.  Dog-gone  him !  He  never  catches 
anything,  either.  He  went  up  the  Platte  or  down  the 
Platte ;  left  word  he  was  going  down,  so  probably  he's 
up.  Now  traffic  on  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad  will 
have  to  wait  on  Bill.  I've  got  people  hunting  him." 


DOWN  THE  LINE  — AND  BACK         55 

The  freight  pulled  in.  The  engine  stood  fuming; 
the  crew  lolled  about;  yes,  everything  and  everybody 
waited  on  Bill  Thompson.  Terry  felt  that  he  was 
losing  valuable  time.  This  was  pretty  tough.  He 
wanted  to  be  on  his  way. 

Bill  appeared,  breathless,  at  half-past  four  —  and  he 
hadn't  caught  a  single  fish,  either.  Now  he  had  to 
get  his  men  together  and  his  handcar  out. 

"How  far's  he  going?"  Terry  demanded,  struck 
with  an  idea. 

"  As  far  as  Willow,  anyway.  North  Platte,  maybe, 
if  he  takes  the  notion,"  said  Harry.  "  There's  better 
fishing  at  North  Platte  —  and  better  eating,  too.  Be- 
sides, he's  got  a  girl  up  there,  at  an  all-night  hash 
counter." 

"  Gee,  then !  Why  can't  Shep  and  I  go  too  ?  "  Terry 
proposed. 

"  Sure  thing.  There's  nothing  like  a  handcar,  for 
seeing  the  country  from.  Climb  aboard.  Tell  Bill  I 
sent  you." 

"  But  won't  the  freight  pass  us?  " 

"  Not  till  you  get  to  Willow.  It'll  have  to  wait  till 
Bill  gives  the  O.  K.  These  freights  are  mighty  un- 
certain —  they're  strictly  limited.  When  they  don't 
happen  to  be  moving  they're  standing  still,  waiting  for 
something.  The  main  business  of  a  freight  crew  on 
this  line  seems  to  be  hunting  a  side-track.  So  if  you're 
really  in  a  hurry  you'd  better  take  the  handcar." 

"All  right.  Good-by."  And  Terry  ran  for  the 
handcar. 

"  I'll  see  you  at  Salt  Lake,"  called  Harry,  after. 


56  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

The  handcar  crew  were  about  ready.  They 
numbered  four,  in  broad-brimmed  slouch  hats,  flannel 
shirts,  and  trousers  tucked  into  heavy  boots.  They 
were  just  stowing  their  climbing  irons  and  other  tools 
on  the  car,  and  a  couple  of  rifles,  also. 

Bill  Thompson,  the  red-faced  head  lineman,  with 
whiskers  on  his  chin,  granted  Terry  a  sharp  look. 

"What's  the  matter,  bub?" 

"  Harry  said  I  could  go  up  track  with  you,  if  you 
don't  mind." 

"An'thedawgtoo?" 

"  Yes,  please." 

"  An'  'ow  fur  might  you  be  goin'  ?  "  By  his  speech 
Bill  was  English. 

"  Clear  to  North  Platte,  if  I  can.  I've  got  a  job 
with  the  track-laying  gang  at  end  o'  track." 

"You  'ave,  'ave  you?  H'all  right.  H'aint  afraid 
o'  hTnjuns,  h'are  you?" 

"No,  sir." 

"  Needn't  be  scared  of  Injuns,  boy,"  remarked  one 
of  the  other  men,  as  Terry  and  Shep  hopped  aboard 
together.  "  They  don't  bother  the  track.  These  here 
guns  are  for  antelope.  You  sit  at  one  end,  out  of 
the  way,  and  hold  your  dog  where  he  won't  be  stepped 
on." 

With  a  running  start  they  were  off.  Harry  waved 
from  the  station  door. 

Shep  lay  braced,  considerably  astonished;  but  he 
was  a  wise  old  dog,  and  put  his  trust  in  his  master. 
Terry  sat  with  his  legs  hanging  over  the  rear  end  of 
the  car;  the  men,  two  to  a  bar,  pumped  regularly;  the 


DOWN  THE  LINE  —  AND  BACK         57 

car  gathered  way,  and  moved  clanking  over  the  rails. 
This  assuredly  beat  riding  upon  a  train,  because  a 
fellow  was  right  outdoors  and  could  see  everywhere. 

It  was  sort  of  go-as-you-please,  too.  The  men  kept 
close  watch  of  the  telegraph  line;  now  and  then  they 
stopped  the  car,  and  one  of  them  put  on  his  climbing 
irons  and  shinned  up  a  pole,  to  inspect.  But  they 
didn't  find  the  break,  yet.  Meanwhile  the  sun  sank 
lower  and  lower,  and  presently  entered  a  bank  of  clouds 
in  the  west.  Dusk  began  to  gather ;  the  plains  seemed 
very  quiet  and  lonely,  and  the  handcar  small  and  lost. 

What  with  the  frequent  stops,  to  investigate,  dark- 
ness was  making  everything  dim  when  they  rolled  into 
Plum  Creek  station.  Plum  Creek  was  as  lonely  as  the 
country  around;  the  station  was  locked  and  the  agent 
evidently  had  gone  for  the  night. 

"  'E  wouldn't  know  h'anything,  any'ow,"  remarked 
Bill  Thompson.  "  'E  h'ain't  a  h'operator." 

They  bowled  on,  through  Plum  Creek,  and  into  the 
darkness. 

"  'Ow's  a  man  expected  to  see  a  broken  wire  this 
time  o'  day?"  Bill  grumbled. 

"Tisn't  day;  it's  night." 

"  Right  you  h'are,"  he  answered.  "  We'll  go  h'on 
to  Willow  an'  find  out  if  h'anybody  there  knows  h'any- 
thing. An'  when  we're  at  Willow  we're  'alf  way  to 
North  Platte,  aye?  Might  as  well  go  on  to  North 
Platte,  aye?  H'are  you  game?  North  Platte's  a 
proper  kind  o'  place.  'Bout  time  this  line  was  in- 
spected clear  through,  h'anyway.  Climb  a  pole,  one 
o'  you,  an'  test  out.  We're  liable  to  pass  that  break 
unbeknown." 


58  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

With  a  torch,  one  of  the  men  climbed  a  pole. 

"  I  can  raise  'em  east,  but  I  can't  get  'em,  west,"  he 
called  down.  "  The  break's  on  ahead  still.  I  see  a 
light,  'way  up  track." 

"What  kind  o'  light?" 

"  First  I  thought  it  was  a  train  a-comin'.  Doesn't 
seem  to  move,  though.  It's  'round  a  curve.  You 
fellers  on  the  ground  can't  see  it." 

"  Trampers,  maybe." 

"  Or  the  h'operator  from  Willow  is  tryin'  to  fix 
that  break  'imself,"  added  Bill.  "  Come  down  an'  we'll 
go  h'up." 

So  the  man  came  down  from  the  pole,  and  the  hand- 
car moved  on,  pump-pump,  clank-clank,  with  everybody 
peering  ahead. 

Yes,  after  a  time  they  could  glimpse  the  light,  be- 
fore, where  the  track  led.  It  flickered  ruddily,  but  did 
not  move.  Looked  to  be  a  bonfire. 

"  I  don't  see  any  riggers  at  it,"  said  one  of  the  men. 

"  They  must  be  workin'  on  the  wire,"  said  Bill. 
"  Or  else  layin'  an'  toastin'  their  shins." 

'  You  don't  reckon  it's  Injuns,  do  you?  " 

"  What'd  h'Injuns  be  doin'  with  a  big  fire  to  show 
their  whereabouts?  "  Bill  reproved.  "  H'anyway,  'ere 
we  come." 

The  distance  lessened,  and  the  bonfire  grew  plainer. 
It  was  a  hundred  yards  before,  on  the  curve  —  it  was 
seventy-five  yards  —  it  was  fifty  yards;  the  handcar 
had  slackened,  while  everybody  gazed  curiously;  and 
suddenly,  as  if  out  of  the  very  ground,  there  had 
sprung  into  ruddy  view  on  both  sides  of  the  track  a 
dozen  figures,  ahorse  and  afoot. 


DOWN  THE  LINE  — AND  BACK         59 

Bill  yelped  alarmed. 

"  HTnjuns,  boys !  Don't  stop.  Give  it  to  her ! 
We'll  run  right  through  'em !  " 

The  men  bowed  their  backs.  The  handcar  fairly 
jumped  as  it  charged  the  fire  and  the  figures.  Hang- 
ing hard  and  squirming  flat,  Terry  held  his  breath. 
A  moment  more,  and  'midst  a  chorus  of  yells  they 
were  there,  running  the  gauntlet.  Then,  to  a  violent 
crash,  they  and  the  car  were  hurtling  together,  high 
in  the  air. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   CHEYENNES    HAVE   SOME   FUN 

WITH  a  terrific  jar  Terry  landed  far  in  the  brush  and 
went  ploughing  and  rolling,  topsy-turvy.  He  thought 
that  he  heard  Shep  yelp  (as  if  Shep  had  landed,  too, 
somewhere) ;  then  he  brought  up,  in  a  heap,  wedged 
at  the  bottom  of  a  little  wash. 

He  lay  without  moving,  listening  and  wondering 
if  any  bones  were  broken.  No;  he  seemed  to  be  all 
right.  But  there  were  chases,  through  the  brush,  in 
the  darkness;  the  Indians  were  riding  hither-thither, 
shouting  and  shooting.  He  heard  it  all  —  the  shots, 
the  yells  of  triumph,  a  groan  or  two.  The  Indians 
were  killing  the  handcar  men ! 

It  seemed  to  him  a  long  time  before  that  was  over 
with,  and  every  moment  he  expected  an  Indian  to  ride 
on  top  of  him.  But  the  yelling  and  shooting  and 
scurrying  died  away.  The  Indians  appeared  to  be 
gathering  at  their  fire. 

Ah!  What  was  that?  He  heard  a  faint  rustle, 
near  him.  An  Indian  was  scouting  about,  on  foot, 
looking  for  him?  He  scarcely  dared  to  breathe  as 
he  hugged  the  earth,  and  his  heart  thumped  like  a  drum. 
Then  something  paused,  beside  him;  next  something 
cold,  like  a  knife  Hade,  pressed  against  his  neck,  and 
he  heard  a  little  whimper. 

60 


THE  CHEYENNES  HAVE  SOME  FUN     61 

It  was  Shep,  and  Shep's  nose!  Shep  was  alive  and 
had  found  him.  Oh,  Shep!  Good  old  Shep!  Be 
quiet,  Shep.  But  Shep  knew.  He  was  satisfied,  and 
crouched  close,  only  once  in  a  while  growling  low  in  his 
throat. 

Here  they  were  —  the  only  ones  left  alive,  Terry 
felt,  from  the  handcar.  Now  what  could  he  do  ?  The 
Indians  were  talking  and  laughing,  at  a  little  distance. 
He  gradually  untangled  himself,  and  inch  by  inch 
raised  his  head,  to  see,  in  the  direction  of  the  fire.  He 
had  to  crawl  a  few  feet,  to  the  edge  of  his  wash.  He 
peeped  over. 

The  Indians  were  collected  around  their  fire,  beside 
the  track.  Between  his  place  and  the  fire  there  was 
a  narrow  gully,  bridged  by  a  wooden  culvert ;  and  upon 
the  track  over  the  culvert  there  was  a  tie,  fastened  to 
the  rails  by  wire,  but  knocked  askew.  That  was  what 
the  handcar  had  struck ;  and  he  had  been  thrown  clear 
across  to  this  side  and  luckily  had  landed  in  this  wash 
cut  diagonally  by  the  rains.  The  sage  was  quite  high 
here,  too.  He  guessed  he  hadn't  been  counted  on  the 
handcar,  because  he  had  been  lying  down  and  the  four 
men  had  been  standing. 

He  could  just  see  the  handcar,  bottomside  up,  in 
the  brush  on  the  slope  of  the  gully.  Now  the  Indians 
were  leaving  their  fire  and  trooping  down  track  a  little 
way.  They  began  to  pry  at  the  rails,  with  poles. 
They  were  planning  another  wreck.  This  one  had 
been  a  success,  but  it  was  only  a  small  one.  Perhaps 
they  thought  that  a  tie  would  not  wreck  a  train,  and 
they  wanted  to  wreck  a  train. 


62  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

They  pried  and  worked,  loosening  the  rails.  What 
could  a  fellow  do?  That  freight  at  Kearney  might 
have  got  tired  of  waiting,  and  be  along  any  time.  Or 
a  passenger  train  might  come.  Terry  thought  upon 
breaking  for  Willow  Island,  to  give  the  alarm  there. 
No,  that  wouldn't  be  the  quickest  way.  If  he  might 
only  get  around  the  Indians,  and  run  to  Plum  Creek 
—  it  couldn't  be  more  than  five  or  six  miles,  and  he 
might  meet  the  train  this  side  of  it  and  stop  it,  some- 
how. 

"Whisht!  Come  on,  Shep.  Careful,  now,"  he 
whispered.  He  started  to  crawl.  Shep  crawled  be- 
hind him.  Once  down  in  the  gully,  maybe  they  could 
follow  it  up  a  way,  and  make  a  circuit  around  that 
gang.  They  reached  the  bottom,  and  were  about  to 
do  finely,  when  Terry  heard  a  groan. 

It  sounded  from  the  brush,  beyond  the  gully.  He 
listened,  and  heard  it  again.  It  was  a  groan  in 
English.  One  of  the  handcar  men  was  alive.  Well, 
he  ought  to  go  and  see. 

"'Elp!" 

That  was  Bill  Thompson!  Bill  was  groaning  for 
help.  Oh,  dear! 

Up  he  crawled,  seeking  the  place  of  the  groans. 

"Hello!  Where  are  you?"  he  asked,  cautiously. 
He  was  almost  into  the  fire  light. 

"'Ere.     Who  are  you?" 

"  Terry  Richards.     I  'm  coming." 

He  kept  crawling,  and  pretty  soon  he  found  Bill 
lying  flat  on  his  side,  with  his  head  on  his  arm.  In 
the  faint  glimmer  of  the  flames  a  ghastly  thing  he  was. 


THE  CHEYENNES  HAVE  SOME  FUN  63 

"You  bad  hurt,  Bill?" 

"  'Ello.  They  shot  me  through  the  h'arm  an'  knifed 
me  in  the  neck  an'  scalped  me,  but  I  got  the  scalp." 

"What?" 

"  Yes.  'Ere  'tis,  in  my  'and.  The  bloomin'  beggar 
didn't  'ang  onto  h'it.  'E  dropped  h'it.  H'l  saw  'im. 
Felt  like  the  'ole  top  o'  my  'ead  was  h'off,  but  I  got 
h'it  when  they  wasn't  lookin'.  D'  you  think  h'it'll 
grow  on  me  again  ?  " 

"  I  dunno.  We'd  better  get  right  out  of  here, 
though.  He  may  come  looking  for  it." 

"  'E  'asn't  missed  it,  I  reckon.  H'it  was  in  'is  belt. 
What  they  doin'  now?" 

"  Tearing  up  the  rails,  so  as  to  wreck  a  train.  I'm 
going  to  try  to  make  Plum  Creek.  I'll  help  you  into 
that  gully;  then  I've  got  to  go." 

"  H'all  right,"  groaned  Bill.  "  You  go.  Never  you 
mind  me.  H'l  can  manage." 

"  No,"  said  Terry.  And  suddenly  he  crouched 
lower.  "  Keep  quiet,  Bill.  They're  coming  back." 

"  Oh,  the  bloody  villains,"  groaned  Bill.  "  Make  a 
run  for  it,  while  you  can.  Never  mind  me." 

"  I  can't,"  answered  Terry.  And  even  if  he  would, 
he  didn't  dare.  They  might  see  him;  if  they  didn't 
catch  him,  they'd  find  Bill  -  -  ! 

The  whole  body  of  Indians  were  roistering  back,  up 
track,  for  their  fire;  probably  to  hide  near  it,  as  be- 
fore, and  wait.  Some  were  afoot,  some  on  ponies; 
and  a  hideous  sight  they  offered,  to  Terry,  crouched 
here  on  the  outskirts  of  the  fire  light,  and  daring  to 
move  not  a  muscle.  Cheyennes ;  that's  who  they  were : 
Cheyennes ! 


64  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

They  began  to  scatter  out,  for  ambush.  Perhaps 
there'd  be  a  chance  to  risk  it  and  crawl  farther  away. 
Ah!  Oh,  thunder!  One  of  them  was  coming  across, 
straight  this  way,  prowling  through  the  brush. 

"  Lie  low,  Bill.     Watch  sharp." 

"What's  doin'?" 

"  They're  at  the  fire,  but  one  of  'em  's  coming." 

"  'E's  lookin'  for  'is  scalp,"  Bill  groaned. 

They  stiffened,  motionless.  Shep  growled,  and 
Terry  nudged  him  frantically.  The  Indian  —  he  had 
feathers  in  his  braids  and  a  gun  in  his  hands  —  ranged 
right  and  left,  and  all  the  time  drew  nearer.  At  that 
rate,  he  couldn't  miss  them  —  not  if  he  kept  on.  Terry 
didn't  know  whether  to  bolt  or  to  stay.  If  Shep  only 

would  quit  that  growling !  Or  if  the  Indian 

would  only  turn  aside.  To  be  shot,  or  tomahawked, 
would  be  awful.  It  took  a  great  deal  of  nerve  to 
stiffen,  here,  and  hold  one's  breath,  and  wait  and  pray. 
There  was  just  the  chance  that  they  wouldn't  be  dis- 
covered —  but  the  Indian  was  coming,  coming,  in  sure 
and  easy  fashion,  looking  for  that  scalp! 

Quit  it,  Shep!  Bill  was  gasping,  in  his  efforts  to 
utter  no  sound.  It  was  worse  for  him,  because  he 
couldn't  see.  Terry  could  see,  with  the  corner  of  an 
eye,  through  the  brush  —  and  he'd  about  made  up  his 
mind  that  at  the  last  moment  he  would  bolt,  and  run, 
dodging,  for  the  open.  He'd  have  to  risk  a  bullet, 
and  have  to  risk  being  overhauled;  but  he  might  get 
away,  and  that  would  lead  the  Indian  from  Bill,  too. 
There  wasn't  any  use  in  the  both  of  them  being  found, 
in  this  one  spot. 


THE  CHEYENNES  HAVE  SOME  FUN  65 

He  was  all  braced,  to  make  his  dive,  when  on  a 
sudden  Shep  took  matters  into  his  own  hand.  The 
Indian  was  scouting  about,  in  the  brush  not  more  than 
twenty  yards  before  —  and  out  Shep  charged,  with  a 
furious  snarly  rush,  in  defense. 

Terry  had  no  time  in  which  to  grab  him;  and  it 
would  have  been  too  late,  anyway.  An  instant  more 

—  so  brief  a  space  that  the  Indian  was  taken  by  sur- 
prise —  and  out  from  the  brush  Shep  had  sprung  for 
his  throat.     He  knocked  the  Indian  backward.     They 
staggered  around  together,  Shep  snarling  and  snapping, 
the  Cheyenne  fighting  him  off.     Terry  half  sat  up,  to 
watch,  his  heart  in  his  throat. 

"  It's  my  dog,"  he  panted,  to  Bill. 

The  Cheyenne  seemed  to  have  Shep  by  the  neck  or 
jaw,  and  was  thrusting  with  his  other  arm,  stabbing 
him.  Shep  yelped,  snarlily.  With  a  kick  and  a  fling 
the  Cheyenne  threw  him  aside;  and  as  Shep  pluckily 
struggled  to  his  feet  and  still  snarling  made  for  him 
again,  the  Cheyenne  quickly  leveled  rifle,  and  fired. 

The  bullet  drove  poor  old  Shep  in  a  heap.  He  lay 
black  and  lax,  scarcely  moving,  except  to  lift  his  head, 
and  drop  it.  He  had  happened  to  land  in  a  bare  spot, 
and  Terry  could  see  him  plainly.  Yes,  he  was  dead. 

Such  a  hot  wrath  surged  into  Terry's  brain  and 
to  his  very  finger-tips  that  all  he  wanted  now  was  a 
chance  at  that  Indian,  himself.  If  he  but  had  a  gun 

—  or  if  he  might  grab  the  Indian  by  the  legs,  drag 
him  down,  and  get  atop  of  him !     Anything,  so  as  to 
avenge  brave  old  Shep.     For  the  moment  Terry  was 
too  hot  to  think  of  himself,  or  Bill,  or  anybody  except 
Shep,  and  that  Cheyenne. 


66  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

The  Cheyenne  stood  over  Shep,  kicked  him  once  or 
twice,  and  then  seemed  about  to  come  on  again. 
Terry  crouched,  tense  and  alert.  Shep  had  not  saved 
them,  after  all.  Too  bad. 

"Is  'e  comin'?"  murmured  Bill.  " 'E  killed  the 
dawg?" 

"Sh!"  warned  Terry. 

No !  Hurrah !  The  Cheyenne  stopped,  and  looked 
back.  The  Indians  by  the  fire  had  whooped  to  him, 
and  were  disappearing.  The  Cheyenne  turned  and  ran 
for  them. 

"  He's  going,  Bill !  "  Terry  gasped.  "  It's  the  train. 
That's  coming.  I  can  see  the  headlight.  Oh,  Bill !  " 

Bill  struggled,  to  see  also.  Afar  down  the  track 
there  was  a  light,  wavering  and  flashing,  and  they 
could  hear  a  dull  rumble.  Several  of  the  mounted 
Indians  had  dashed  away,  in  that  direction.  The 
others  were  scuttling  and  hiding. 

"H'it's  the  freight,"  Bill  groaned.  "  H'it's  the 
freight  that  was  at  Kearney.  Bully  Brookes,  'e's 
h'engine  driver,  'Enshaw,  'e's  the  stoker.  H'it'll  be  a 
smash,  an'  we  can't  'elp  it.  Is  your  dawg  killed  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  guess  so.  But  if  he  hadn't  run  out  the 
Cheyenne  would  have  found  us  and  we'd  have  been 
killed,  too." 

"  'E  was  a  good  dawg,  a  sure-'nough  'ero.  'E 
stopped  the  h'Injun,  but  we  can't  stop  that  train." 

!<  There  are  two  trains,  Bill !  I  see  another  light, 
'way  behind  the  first  one !  " 

"  H'it'll  be  plain  murder,"  Bill  groaned.  "  An'  we 
can't  do  a  thing.  I  wish  you'd  never  found  me." 


THE  CHEYENNES  HAVE  SOME  FUN  67 

"  I  couldn't  have  got  there  in  time,  anyway,"  said 
Terry. 

The  first  light  rapidly  grew  larger,  the  rumbling 
increased.  Terry  stared,  fascinated.  He  didn't  wish 
to  see,  but  somehow  he  had  to.  If  Bully  Brookes  or 
his  fireman,  Henshaw,  only  would  discover  the  lifted 
rails  and  stop,  in  time,  themselves.  But  it  did  not 
seem  as  though  they  were  going  to  stop  or  slacken. 
Flaring  and  wavering,  the  headlight  was  coming  on. 

The  engine  began  to  whistle  madly,  with  long  shriek 
after  long  shriek.  Had  it  sensed  its  danger?  But  it 
did  not  slacken  —  it  was  coming  faster.  And  see ! 
The  Cheyennes  were  nagging  it ;  by  the  glare  from  the 
opened  firebox  as  the  fireman  shoved  in  the  cord- 
wood  sticks  the  Indians  were  shown,  racing  on  either 
side,  brandishing  their  bows  and  guns,  egging  the 
train  on. 

The  engine  jetted  steam  from  its  cylinder  cocks; 
the  whistle  shrieked  and  shrieked;  the  firebox  glowed 
redly  as  the  firemen  stoked  with  the  cordwood,  the 
Indians  lashed  their  ponies  and  plied  their  arrows.  It 
was  a  wild  scene,  and  terrible.  Terry  trembled  with 
excitement.  Bill  sank  back,  groaning. 
*  Tell  me  when  she  'its,"  he  pleaded. 

The  engine  was  approaching  the  bonfire.  It  had 
not  reached  the  tilted  rails,  yet.  Oh,  would  nobody 
see  them? 

They  were  seen,  they  were  seen!  Listen!  The 
notes  of  the  whistle  had  changed  to  frantic  yaps 
like  those  of  a  frightened  animal.  "  Down  brakes, 
down  brakes,  quick !  "  the  whistle  was  imploring.  The 


68  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

engine  wheels  spurted  sparks,  under  reversed  throttle. 
Too  late.  The  racing  Cheyennes  swerved  apart,  for 
safety;  even  while  Terry  gazed,  and  before  he  had  time 
to  close  his  eyes,  the  engine  rose  right  into  the  air, 
with  a  roar  and  a  plunge  left  the  track,  and  dragging 
the  tender  and  car  after  car  it  went  lurching  into  the 
prairie. 

It  toppled  over,  cars  toppled,  and  in  a  moment  every- 
thing seemed  to  be  piled  in  a  long  heap.  The  en- 
gine was  almost  buried  from  sight.  Out  of  the  jangle 
there  welled  shouts.  From  the  rear,  men  came  run- 
ning; from  the  front  the  Cheyennes  charged.  One 
man  with  a  lantern  —  the  conductor,  maybe  —  ar- 
rived at  the  fore;  the  Indians  seemed  to  miss  him,  in 
the  excitement,  for  he  turned  and  ran  fast,  again,  down 
track,  throwing  his  lantern  away.  He  was  going  to 
the  train  behind,  and  it  looked  as  though  he  got  off, 
safe. 

The  Cheyennes  chased  about,  circled  the  engine 
heap,  and  danced  and  whooped.  Flames  burst  forth, 
licking  up  through  the  heap,  and  the  scene  grew 
brighter  and  brighter. 

"  I  think  we'd  better  move,  Bill,"  Terry  stammered. 
"  They'll  see  us  here,  sure,  as  soon  as  the  train  gets  to 
burning.  We  can  hide  in  the  little  gully  where  I  was." 

"  H'all  right,"  Bill  groaned.  "  H'it's  a  good  time, 
while  they're  murderin'  somebody  h'else." 

That  was  a  hard  journey,  with  Bill  hitching  pain- 
fully through  the  brush,  using  one  arm  and  carrying 
his  scalp  and  stopping  every  little  while  to  rest  and 
pant.  The  wonder  was,  that  he  could  move  at  all  — 


THE  CHEYENNES  HAVE  SOME  FUN     69 

a  man  who  had  been  shot  and  stabbed  and  scalped; 
but  he  had  a  lot  of  will  power,  and  was  determined  to 
live  and  make  the  scalp  grow  on  his  head  again,  "  to 
fool  them  bloody  h'Injuns." 

At  last  he  was  settled  in  the  gully,  with  Terry's  coat 
under  his  head.  Terry  crawled  up  to  the  edge  again, 
to  lie  shivering,  and  see  what  more  occurred.  It  wasn't 
very  likely,  though,  that  the  Indians  would  leave  the 
wreck  until  they  had  to. 

No,  they  stayed  there.  One  or  two  of  the  cars  fol- 
lowing the  engine  and  tender  had  been  loaded  with 
brick.  They  had  landed  right  on  top  of  the  engine, 
and  the  bricks  were  scattered  all  around.  The  In- 
dians were  pelting  the  heap  with  the  loose  bricks ;  they 
acted  like  children;  but  pretty  soon  the  fire  got  too 
hot  for  that,  so  they  withdrew,  to  squat  in  a  circle, 
and  curiously  watch. 

The  second  train  had  backed  down  track,  and  was 
far  distant,  still  backing.  Had  gone  to  Plum  Creek, 
probably,  for  help.  Shivering  Terry  and  groaning 
Bill  Thompson  were  left  alone,  with  the  Indians  and 
the  blazing  wreck.  What  a  night !  When  would  help 
come? 

Terry  never  forgot  this  night.  Up  the  track,  and 
down  the  track  beyond  the  wreck  nothing  moved. 
The  Indians  stretched  out  and  seemed  to  sleep  com- 
fortably in  the  warmth  of  their  big  fire,  as  if  wait- 
ing until  morning.  In  the  gully  Bill  now  and  then 
groaned.  On  the  edge  of  the  gully  Terry  huddled 
and  nodded  —  but  whenever  he  started  to  doze,  he 
woke  with  a  jump,  seeing  things. 


70  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

Poor  old  Shep !  He  had  Shep  in  his  mind  a  great 
deal.  Yes,  Shep  was  a  hero,  and  he  should  not  be 
left  there,  for  the  coyotes  to  eat.  That  would  not 
be  fair. 

"  H'are  you  'ere?  "  Bill  called  up,  faintly.  "  'Ello, 
lad." 

"  I'm  here,"  Terry  answered.  "  I'll  stay  with  you, 
Bill.  I'm  going  to  stay  till  people  come.  I  want  to 
bury  my  dog." 

"  'E  was  a  fine  dawg,"  Bill  agreed. 

Finally  Terry  did  manage  to  sleep,  in  spite  of  his 
shivering  and  his  bad  dreams.  He  awakened  stiff  and 
bewildered.  Where  was  he?  Oh,  yes;  here  in  the 
brush,  still,  outside  the  wreck.  He  might  see  about 
him.  The  air  was  thin  and  gray,  morning  had  come. 
He  cautiously  raised  higher,  to  look.  The  wreck  was 
smoking,  the  Indians  were  there  —  they  were  moving 
about,  and  flocking  down  track,  and  climbing  over 
the  cars.  No  rescue  had  come  yet.  Oh,  dear!  The 
telegraph  wires  had  been  used,  for  tying  the  tie  that 
wrecked  the  handcar,  to  the  track,  but  why  didn't  help 
come  from  Plum  Creek  way  ? 

Was  Bill  dead?     No,  he  spoke. 

"'Ello?" 

"Hello.     How  are  you?" 

"  Wish  I  had  a  drink.     What's  doin'  now? " 

"  They're  robbing  the  wreck." 

"  Yes,  that's  what,"  groaned  Bill. 

The  Indians  were  enjoying  themselves.  They  had 
broken  into  some  cars  loaded  with  drygoods,  and  were 
strewing  the  stuff  right  and  left.  As  the  morning 


THE  CHEYENNES  HAVE  SOME  FUN     71 

brightened,  that  was  an  odd  sight,  down  there.  The 
Cheyennes  wrapped  themselves  in  gay  calico  and  ging- 
ham and  red  flannel  and  other  cloths;  they  tied  whole 
bolts  of  the  same  cloth  to  their  saddle  horns  and  their 
ponies'  tails,  and  darted  hither-thither  over  the  plain, 
while  the  bolts  unrolled  and  other  riders  chased  after, 
trying  to  step  on  the  long  streamers.  They  had  so 
much  plunder  that  they  seemed  crazy. 

Suddenly  they  all  galloped  to  one  side,  to  a  little 
rise,  and  gathered  there,  like  a  flock  of  magpies,  gaz- 
ing up  track.  Had  they  seen  Terry  ?  He  felt  a  thrill 
of  fear,  and  huddled  lower.  Then  he  bethought  to 
look  behind,  up  track,  too  —  and  he  saw  smoke ! 

It  was  a  train!  A  train  was  coming,  from  the 
west.  And  how  it  did  come!  A  rescue  train! 
Hurrah! 

"  Bill !  A  train's  coming !  The  Injuns  are  quit- 
ting!" 

"Where  from?" 

"  Up  track." 

"  'Ow'd  they  get  word,  thereabouts?" 

"  I  dunno ;  but  it's  coming,  and  coming  lickity-split, 
as  if  it  had  soldiers." 

"'Ooray!"  Bill  groaned.  "An'  I  'ope  it  'as  a 
doctor,  to  stick  this  'ere  scalp  on  me  again." 

The  engine  shrieked,  and  the  smoke  poured  blacker. 
The  Indians  were  getting  restless.  Then  away  they 
scoured.  Terry  stood  up  and  yelled  and  waved  his 
arms,  the  train  —  a  short  train  of  box-cars  —  pulled 
in  and  soldiers  tumbled  out.  How  good  their  blue 
coats  looked !  Terry  went  stumbling  and  staggering 


72  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

to  meet  them.  He  saw  somebody  he  knew  —  the  scout 
in  buckskin  who  was  leading  the  soldiers,  with  the 
officer. 

"Sol!     Hello,  Sol  Judy!     Oh,  Sol!" 

But  Sol  scarcely  knew  him. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  What  ?  For  heaven's  sake,  boy ! 
You  aren't  Terry  Richards?  " 

"  Guess  I  am."  And  Terry  sank  down.  His  legs 
had  given  out.  "  Oh,  Sol !  They  wrecked  our  hand- 
car, and  Bill  Thompson's  in  that  gully  with  his  scalp 
gone,  but  he's  alive,  and  they  killed  Shep  and  then  they 
wrecked  the  freight  and  killed  a  lot  more." 

In  a  moment  he  was  surrounded  and  picked  up. 
He  had  to  tell  his  story  all  over  again,  while  some  ex- 
amined the  wreck,  and  some  got  Bill  and  carried  him 
up,  and  the  Cheyennes  meanwhile  made  off. 

They  were  soldiers  from  Fort  McPherson,  beyond 
Willow.  A  man  had  ridden  around  the  Indians,  from 
Plum  Creek,  and  taken  the  word. 

"  There  aren't  enough  of  us  to  follow  those  fel- 
lows," explained  Sol.  "  But  the  Pawnees  are  on  the 
way  from  end  o'  track.  They'll  do  the  business.  Now 
you  and  Thompson  can  go  back  with  this  train." 

"  I  want  to  bury  Shep,  first,"  Terry  pleaded. 

"  Sure  you  do.  He  died  fighting,  like  a  soldier, 
and  '  Killed  in  action '  is  the  report  on  him.  A  good 
U.  P.  hand  he  was,  wasn't  he?  So  we'll  just  bury 
him  right  here,  where  he  can  watch  the  tracks." 

Nobody  seemed  to  blame  Terry  any  for  crying, 
when  he  and  Sol  and  a  couple  of  soldiers  put  Shep 
away.  Sol  understood;  he  had  known  Shep  a  long 
time,  himself. 


THE  CHEYENNES  HAVE  SOME  FUN  73 

The  bodies  of  the  handcar  men  and  a  brakeman 
(the  engineer  and  fireman  had  been  burned)  were 
placed  aboard,  for  Willow.  Taking  Bill  Thompson 
and  Terry,  but  leaving  the  soldiers  on  guard  at  the 
wreck,  the  train  backed  up  track.  Bill's  scalp  had 
been  stowed  in  a  bucket  of  water,  to  keep  it  limber. 
It  curled  about,  as  it  floated,  and  looked  exactly  like 
a  drowned  rat.  No  doctor  ever  did  succeed  in  plant- 
ing it  and  making  it  grow  again  on  Bill's  head;  but 
Bill  got  well  and  went  to  work,  wearing  a  skull-cap. 

However,  Terry  went  to  work,  the  first,  at  end  o' 
track  once  more,  the  next  morning.  Jenny  was  glad 
to  see  him.  His  father  had  been  mighty  glad,  too, 
and  together  they  mourned  the  brave  Shep. 

"  I  hear  tell  ye  lost  your  dog,"  said  Paddy  Miles, 
kindly. 

"  Yes,  that's  so,"  Terry  answered,  with  a  gulp. 

"  Ah,  well ;  'twas  a  bad  night,  sure  enough,  for  him 
an'  you  an'  them  others,"  mused  Pat.  "  But  him  an' 
they  are  not  the  only  wans.  There's  many  a  grave 
beside  the  U.  Pay.,  behind  us,  an'  there's  more  on  ahead 
an'  more  yet  to  be  made,  before  the  road  goes  through. 
Tis  a  big  job  an'  a  cruel  job  an'  a  long  road  to  travel; 
but  'tis  sich  a  job  as  is  worth  the  dyin'  for  anny  day, 
say  I  —  though  I'd  fair  like  to  live  jist  to  see  the 
Cintral  baten  into  Salt  Lake  an'  the  U.  Pay.  track 
stretchin'  out  clane  across  Nevady." 


CHAPTER  VI 

MOVING   DAY   ALONG   THE   LINE 

ON  marched  the  rails  of  the  iron  trail,  at  a  giant's 
stride  of  one  to  two  miles  in  a  day,  as  if  trying  to 
catch  the  tie-layers  and  the  graders.  But  the  tie- 
layers,  planting  their  ties  every  two  feet,  managed 
to  hold  the  advance;  and  twenty,  thirty,  fifty  miles  in 
advance  of  them,  the  graders  followed  the  stakes  of 
the  engineers.  Back  and  forth  along  the  grade  toiled 
the  wagons,  distributing  ties  and  provisions.  From 
Omaha  to  North  Platte  thundered  the  trains,  bring- 
ing fresh  supplies,  other  rails  and  Bother  ties,  to  be 
taken  on  by  the  construction-trains. 

And  into  Omaha  were  pouring,  by  boat  up  from 
St.  Louis  and  St.  Joe,  and  by  wagon  from  Iowa,  still 
other  rails  and  ties  and  provisions,  from  the  farther 
east.  It  was  said  that  if  a  double  line  of  dollar  bills 
were  laid,  instead  of  rails,  from  Omaha  across  the 
plains,  they  would  not  pay  for  the  cost  of  the  road- 
bed alone. 

The  Indians  were  still  bad.  They  had  not  given 
up.  They  ambushed  grading  parties  whenever  they 
could  —  killed  stragglers  and  hunters,  and  ran  off 
stock.  The  Pawnee  scouts  and  the  regular  cavalry  and 
infantry  constantly  patrolled  the  right  of  way,  camped 
with  the  men,  and  tried  to  clear  the  country,  before 
and  on  either  side.  But  the  construction-trains  some- 

74 


MOVING  DAY  ALONG  THE  LINE       75 

times  fought  at  full  speed,  or  narrowly  escaped  a  wreck. 

Every  morning  the  track-layer  gang  of  the  board- 
ing-train piled  out  at  reveille,  the  same  as  in  the  army ; 
they  marched  to  work,  in  columns  of  fours,  at  a 
shoulder  arms,  under  captains  and  sergeants,  stacked 
their  guns,  and  were  ready  to  spring  to  ranks  again 
at  the  first  order. 

"  B'gorry,  the  same  as  a  battalion  oj  infantry,  we 
are,"  said  Pat  Miles.  "  An'  there  was  no  better  bat- 
talion durin'  the  war,  either.  From  Gin'ral  Casement 
down  to  the  chief  spiker  we  got  as  good  officers  as 
ever  wore  the  blue,  wid  five  years'  trainin'  behind  'em 
—  an'  there's  many  a  man  usin'  a  pick  who's  fit  to 
command  a  company,  in  a  pinch." 

Little  was  heard  from  the  engineering  parties  in  the 
field.  They  were  scattered  all  through  the  mountains, 
from  up  in  Wyoming  down  into  Colorado,  and  on 
across  into  Utah,  beyond  Salt  Lake.  In  fact,  last 
year  the  surveys  for  the  best  routes  had  been  pushed 
clear  to  California  —  so  as  to  be  ready. 

The  parties  that  had  come  in,  in  the  winter,  to  re- 
port and  draw  their  maps,  had  gone  out  again  in 
early  spring  for  another  season's  work.  Some  of  the 
parties  even  had  stayed  out  all  winter,  measuring  the 
snow  falls  and  learning  the  weather  at  the  passes. 

General  Sherman,  commanding  this  Military  Divi- 
sion of  the  Missouri,  which  extended  from  the  Mis- 
sissippi River  to  the  Rocky  Mountains,  had  issued 
orders  that  the  military  posts  should  furnish  General 
Dodge  with  all  the  soldiers  who  might  be  spared,  so  that 
the  road  and  the  survey  parties  should  be  protected. 


;6  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

Just  the  same,  the  surveying  job  was  a  dangerous 
job;  ten  and  twelve  miles  of  the  survey  lines  were  run, 
each  day,  and  the  chain-men  and  rod-men  sometimes 
were  far  separated  from  the  soldiers  —  and  the  chief 
of  the  party  was  supposed  to  go  in  the  advance,  to  dis- 
cover the  easiest  country. 

Last  year  the  mountains  and  the  deserts  on  either 
slope  had  been  pretty  well  covered.  Now  it  was  under- 
stood that  the  road  was  not  to  turn  south  for  Denver 
and  the  Colorado  Rockies  —  no  good  passes  had  been 
found;  it  was  to  turn  for  the  northwest,  instead,  and 
cross  the  Rockies  in  Wyoming,  by  a  pass  that  Gen- 
eral Dodge  himself  had  discovered  in  one  of  his  In- 
dian campaigns  two  years  ago. 

So  onward  marched  the  rails  —  that  double  line  ever 
reaching  westward.  Back  and  forth,  hauling  the 
truck,  Terry  rode  old  yellow  Jenny  —  and  how  many 
miles  he  traveled,  to  every  one  mile  of  track,  he  never 
quite  figured  out,  but  seemed  to  him  that  he  already 
had  ridden  the  distance  to  San  Francisco. 

"  We'll  be  after  changin'  the  base  to  a  new  Jules- 
burg  —  as  soon  as  the  rails  reach  yon/'  said  the  men. 

"  Sure,  if  it's  base  o'  supplies  ye  mane,  that'll  be 
changed  before  ever  the  rails  get  there,"  was  the  an- 
swer. "  Any  day  now  they'll  be  comin'  through  — 
wid  their  gin  mills  an*  their  skin-games  an'  all  on 
wheels,  to  be  set  up  an'  waitin'  for  our  pay  car." 

And  that  was  true.  The  railroad  followed  up  along 
the  north  side  of  the  South  Platte  River.  The  Over- 
land Stage  road  followed  up  along  the  south  side, 
with  the  six-horse  teams  and  the  round  Concord  stages 


MOVING  DAY  ALONG  THE  LINE       77 

plying  over  it  between  North  Platte  and  Denver,  on 
the  Salt  Lake  haul.  And  stage  road  and  railroad 
grade  headed  westward  toward  the  old  stage  station 
at  Julesburg. 

It  seemed  likely  that  a  new  Julesburg  would  be  the 
next  supply  base.  It  was  about  the  right  distance 
from  North  Platte,  the  last  base,  or  ninety  miles;  for 
about  every  ninety  or  one  hundred  miles  the  supply 
base  was  relocated,  farther  along,  at  end  o'  track. 

Sure  enough.  The  middle  of  June,  when  old  Jules- 
tjurg  itself  was  in  sight,  two  or  three  miles  before, 
on  the  south  side  of  the  river  there  appeared  a  long 
procession  of  wagons,  buggies,  horses,  mules,  men, 
women  and  children. 

"B'gorry!  Here  they  come,  an'  there  they  go. 
Ain't  they  kind,  though,  to  be  all  waitin'  for  us?  " 

The  wagons  were  loaded  high  with  canvas,  lumber, 
and  goods;  men  and  women  were  perched  atop,  or 
riding  in  buggies,  or  upon  saddle  animals.  The  pro- 
cession looked  like  a  procession  of  refugees  from  a 
war  —  there  must  have  been  over  two  hundred  people. 
They  certainly  raised  a  great  cloud  of  dust. 

The  track-gang  paused  to  cheer  and  wave;  the 
women  and  the  men  waved  back.  The  graders  on 
ahead  waved  and  cheered,  as  the  procession  passed 
them,  to  ford  the  river  again  at  old  Julesburg  and 
wait  for  end  o'  track. 

But  Paddy  Miles,  the  rugged  Irishman,  growled 
indignant. 

"  Bad  cess  to  the  likes  of  'em.  Tis  hell  on  wheels, 
ag'in,  movin'  on  to  ruin  many  a  man  amongst  us. 


78  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

Sure,  if  the  Injuns'd  only  sweep  the  whole  lot  from 
the  face  o'  the  trail,  I'd  sing  '  Glory  be !  There's 
a  use  for  the  red  nagurs,  after  all.' ' 

The  way  these  new  towns  sprang  up  was  wonder- 
ful. The  railroad  sort  of  sowed  them  —  and  they 
grew  over  night  like  Jonah's  gourd  or  the  bean-stalk 
of  Jack-the-Giant-Killer.  There  was  North  Platte. 
Before  the  rails  touched  it,  it  had  been  nothing  except 
a  prairie-dog  village.  But  in  three  weeks  it  had  blos- 
somed into  a  regular  town. 

Now  part  of  its  people  were  moving  along,  to  tag 
the  pay-car.  These  were  the  saloon-keepers,  gamblers, 
and  speculators,  in  haste  to  fleece  the  railroad  workers. 
The  track  men  and  the  graders  got  three  dollars  a  day, 
which  meant  rich  picking  for  people  bent  upon  selling 
nothing  for  something. 

The  land  agents  of  the  railroad  company  had  selected 
the  site  for  the  next  terminus  town.  Evidently  it 
was  across  from  old  Julesburg,  for  this  evening  lights 
beamed  out,  in  a  great  cluster,  up  the  grade,  where 
the  "Hell  on  Wheels,"  as  the  wrathful  Pat  Miles 
had  dubbed  it,  was  settling  down  like  a  fat  spider 
weaving  a  web. 

In  the  morning  there  was  revealed  the  tents  set 
up,  and  the  board  shanties  going  up  —  a  mass  of 
whity-brown  and  dingy  dun,  squatted  upon  the  gravelly 
landscape  on  the  railroad  side  of  the  river. 

Several  graders  had  been  killed,  in  shooting  scrapes ; 
the  night  at  new  Julesburg  had  been  a  wild  one;  the 
track-layers  who  were  anxious  to  spend  their  money 
waxed  impatient  to  arrive.  As  soon  as  the  rails 


MOVING  DAY  ALONG  THE  LINE       79 

reached  the  sprawling  tent-and-shanty  town,  on  the 
third  day,  the  terminus  supplies  were  moving  up,  on 
flat  cars,  from  North  Platte. 

The  big  building  used  by  Casement  Brothers,  the 
contractors,  occupied  a  car  by  itself.  It  could  be  taken 
apart  like  a  toy  building  of  blocks  or  cardboard.  All 
the  sections  were  numbered ;  and  were  unjointed,  piled 
upon  a  car,  moved  on,  and  set  up  again. 

That  was  the  case  with  a  number  of  other  build- 
ings —  stores  and  offices,  and  the  like.  Some  of  them 
were  painted  to  look  as  though  they  had  brick  or  stone 
fronts  —  but  they  were  only  flimsy  wood.  Why,  any- 
body who  wished  to  erect  a  home  on  a  lot  could  buy 
the  house  for  $300  in  Chicago,  and  have  it  shipped, 
ready  to  be  stuck  together. 

The  railroad  company  owned  the  lands  upon  which 
these  terminal  towns  or  "  base  "  towns  were  located. 
The  company  land  agents  sold  or  leased  the  town  lots, 
and  the  speculators  who  acquired  the  lots  ran  the  fig- 
ures up  as  high  as  $1000. 

The  rails  paused  a  few  days  at  this  new  Julesburg, 
while  the  supplies  from  North  Platte  were  brought 
up,  and  side-tracks  were  laid  for  switching.  After 
supper  the  first  night  in,  Terry  and  little  Jimmie,  his 
side-partner,  went  sight-seeing  —  like  everybody  else. 

What  a  place  —  what  an  ugly,  sprawling,  dusty, 
noisy  place,  of  tents  and  shacks  and  jostling  people, 
flannel-shirted,  booted  track-layers  and  graders, 
blanketed  Mexicans,  even  a  few  Arapaho  Indians,  at- 
tracted hither-thither  by  the  shouts  and  songs  and  re- 
volver shots,  while  candles,  lanterns  and  coal-oil  lamps 
tried  to  turn  the  dusk  into  day. 


80  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

"  The  man  over  there  is  yelling  '  Hurrah  for  the 
wickedest  town  in  America ! '  Hear  him  ?  "  half  whis- 
pered Jimmie. 

"  It's  a  heap  worse  than  North  Platte  ever  was," 
Terry  answered.  "  North  Platte's  a  division  point 
and  will  be  a  city;  but  Pat  says  this  town  won't  last 
long.  When  the  gamblers  and  whiskey-sellers  move 
on  with  the  rails,  there  won't  be  anything  left." 

Suddenly  he  and  Jimmie  met,  face  to  face,  General 
Dodge  himself,  with  little  General  "  Jack  "  Casement 
and  a  party,  two  of  them  in  military  uniform.  The 
generals  stopped  short. 

"  What  are  you  boys  doing  here  ?  " 

"  Jist  lookin'  'round,  sorrs,"  stammered  Jimmie,  in 
his  best  brogue,  with  scrape  of  foot  and  touch  of  fingers 
to  his  ragged  cap. 

"  You  go  back  to  the  train.  This  is  no  place  for 
boys,"  General  Casement  ordered  sharply.  "  I  think," 
he  added,  to  General  Dodge,  "that  I'll  instruct  the 
police  to  keep  all  minors  off  the  streets,  at  night,  unless 
with  their  parents  or  guardians." 

"  A  good  idea,"  agreed  General  Dodge.  "  But  I'll 
relieve  you  of  one  boy,  anyway.  He  goes  along  with 
me,  I  believe.  You  still  want  to  go  to  the  very  front, 
do  you  ?  "  he  asked,  of  Terry. 

"  Yes,  sir,  if  I  can." 

"  Well,  you  can,  with  General  Casement's  permis- 
sion. I'm  on  my  way  now.  My  party  is  camped  a 
few  miles  out,  beside  the  river.  You'll  see  the  tents, 
in  the  morning.  And  you'll  find  an  old  friend  of  yours 
with  us:  Sol  Judy." 


MOVING  DAY  ALONG  THE  LINE       81 

That  was  good  news. 

"Is  Sol  going?     Do  you  know  Sol,  sir?" 

'  Yes,  indeed.  Sol's  been  my  guide  before.  He 
mentioned  you  when  we  got  to  talking  over  the  Plum 
Creek  massacre.  That  was  a  close  call,  wasn't  it! 
And  you  lost  your  dog." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  faltered  Terry,  with  a  little  twinge  in 
his  heart.  "  I  lost  him.  But  he  saved  Bill  Thomp- 
son and  me.  I  suppose  losing  those  men  was  worse." 

"  They  all  gave  their  lives  to  the  service,"  said  the 
general,  gravely.  "  People  will  never  know  what  it 
costs  to  build  this  road  and  keep  it  open.  Now,  we 
break  camp  at  five  o'clock  tomorrow  morning.  You 
report  to  me  here  at  Casement  Brothers'  headquarters 
at  six  o'clock.  Bring  your  campaign  kit  along,  for 
we'll  be  out  all  summer.  We'll  provide  a  horse  for 
you." 

"  Yes,  sir.  I'll  be  there,"  Terry  exclaimed,  rejoic- 
ing. 

"  How  about  this  other  lad?  "  pursued  the  general, 
a  twinkle  in  his  eye  as  he  scanned  the  red-headed 
Jimmie  Muldoon.  "  Does  he  want  to  go  out  into  the 
Indian  country?  " 

"  No,  sorr;  plaze,  sorr,"  Jimmie  apologized.  "  Sure, 
we  have  plinty  Injuns  where  we  be,  an'  I'll  stay  wid 
the  Irish.  Me  father's  chief  spiker,  sorr,  an'  me 
mother  washes  clothes,  an'  me  brother's  water  carrier 
an'  I've  another  brother  who's  like  to  have  Terry's 
job;  so  it's  the  Muldoon  family  that'll  see  the  end  o' 
track  through  to  Salt  Lake." 

"  All  right,"  the  general  laughed.     "  Stay  '  wid  the 


82 


OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 


Irish/  You've  a  loyal  corps,  Casement.  But  both 
you  boys  go  back  to  your  train  and  keep  out  of  trouble." 

With  Jimmie,  Terry  was  glad  enough  to  beat  a  re- 
treat to  the  boarding-train,  set  out  a  little  way  in  the 
cleaner  brush  and  sand,  where  the  air  was  pure  and 
the  night  was  peaceful.  A  number  of  the  men,  also, 
soon  had  enough  of  "  town,"  and  were  already  turn- 
ing in,  to  sleep.  But  there  was  no  sleep  in  new  Jules- 
burg.  All  night  the  hubbub  and  hurly-burly  continued, 
in  spite  of  the  police  stationed  by  General  Casement. 

However,  tomorrow  this  would  be  left  behind. 
Many  a  mile  yet  into  the  nt>rth  of  west  stretched  the 
grade,  waiting  for  the  rails;  and  beyond  the  grade  it- 
self stretdied  the  surveyors'  location  stakes;  and  be- 
yond the  line  of  location  stakes  stretched  widely  the 
desert  and  the  mountains,  where  other  stakes  were 
being  driven  —  and  whe're  Terry  Richards  was  about  to 
explore,  in  company  with  Scout  Sol  Judy  and  no  less 
a  personage  than  the  bold  General  Dodge,  chief  en- 
gineer of  the  whole  road. 

George  Stanton,  somewhere  out  there,  having  fun 
while  he  chopped  stakes  and  maybe  even  held  the  end 
of  a  surveyor's  chain,  was  likely  to  get  the  surprise  of 
his  life. 


CHAPTER  VII 

OUT   INTO   THE   SURVEY   COUNTRY 

IT  was  a  tremendous  large  party.  In  fact,  it  looked 
like  a  regular  military  excursion,  instead  of  a  sur- 
vey trip,  when  in  the  early  morning  it  moved  out 
from  new  Julesburg  (the  "  roaring  town  "  was  dead 
tired  at  this  hour)  and  headed  northwest  up  Lodge 
Pole  Creek  by  the  old  Overland  Stage  road  on  the 
Oregon  Trail. 

There  were  two  companies,  B  and  M,  of  the  Second 
Cavalry,  from  Fort  McPherson,  commanded  by  Cap- 
tain (or  Brevet  Lieutenant-Colonel)  J.  K.  Mizner 
and  First  Lieutenant  James  N.  Wheelan,  to  ride  the 
country  and  guard  the  long  train  of  supply  wagons. 
There  was  Surgeon  Henry  B.  Terry,  of  the  army 
medical  corps  —  a  slender,  black-moustached,  active 
man  in  major's  shoulder-straps.  There  were  the 
teamsters  and  farriers  and  wagoners  and  cooks  and 
what-not. 

There  were  General  Casement,  and  Construction 
Superintendent  Sam  Reed,  and  Colonel  Silas  Seymour 
of  New  York  (the  consulting  engineer  who  was  Gen- 
eral Dodge's  assistant),  and  Mr.  T.  J.  Carter,  a  Gov- 
ernment director  of  the  road,  and  Mr.  Jacob  Blickens- 
derfer,  Jr.,  an  engineer  sent  from  Washington  by  the 
President,  and  Mr.  James  Evans,  the  division  engineer 

83 


84  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

who  was  going  out  to  examine  the  route  to  the  base  of 
the  Black  Hills  range.  There  were  General  William 
Myers,  chief  quartermaster  of  the  Department  of  the 
Platte,  who  was  to  inspect  the  site  of  a  new  army  post 
on  the  railroad  survey,  and  several  surveyors  who  were 
to  take  the  places  of  men  that  had  been  killed  by  the 
Indians. 

And  there  was  General  Dodge's  own  party,  with 
notables  enough  in  it  to  make  a  boy  feel  rather  small. 

Of  course,  the  tall,  lean  man  in  buckskin  was  Scout 
Sol  Judy,  a  real  rider  of  the  plains,  always  ready  for 
Indians  or  anything  else.  He  knew  the  country  from 
Omaha  to  California. 

The  pleasant,  full-bearded  man  who  rode  beside 
General  Dodge  himself  was  none  other  than  General 
John  A.  Rawlins,  chief  of  staff  to  General  Grant,  at 
Washington.  General  Rawlins  was  not  well,  and  Gen- 
eral Grant  had  asked  General  Dodge  if  he  might  not 
be  taken  along,  sometime,  on  a  trip,  to  see  if  roughing 
it  in  the  Far  West  might  not  do  him  good.  So  here 
he  was.  He  and  General  Dodge  had  been  noted  com- 
manders in  the  Civil  War,  and  were  warm  friends  of 
each  other  and  of  General  Grant,  too. 

The  alert  trim-bearded  man  in  corduroy  coat 
was  Mr.  David  Van  Lennep,  the  geologist,  whose  busi- 
ness was  to  explore  for  coal  fields  and  minerals  in  the 
path  of  the  survey. 

The  tall  heavy-set,  round-faced  boyish-looking  man 
was  Captain  and  Major  William  McKee  Dunn,  Gen- 
eral Rawlins'  aide-de-camp,  of  the  Twenty-first  In- 
fantry. 


OUT  INTO  THE  SURVEY  COUNTRY  85 

Another  round-faced  boyish  young  man  was  Mr. 
John  R.  Duff  from  Boston.  His  father  was  a  direc- 
tor of  the  railroad  company. 

The  tall  slim  man  with  side-whiskers  was  Mr.  John 
E.  Corwith,  of  Galena,  Illinois,  who  was  a  guest  of 
General  Rawlins. 

For  Terry  to  get  the  names  and  titles  straight  re- 
quired most  of  the  day.  General  Dodge  had  intro- 
duced him  in  bluff  fashion :  "  Gentlemen,  this  is 
Terry  Richards,  one  of  the  company  men  who  are  lay- 
ing the  rails  across  continent.  He'll  be  one  of  us,  on 
the  trip." 

Beginning  with  General  Rawlins,  they  all  had  shaken 
hands  with  him.  But  it  was  young  Mr.  Duff  who  ex- 
plained who  they  were,  as  on  his  horse  Terry  fell  in 
behind,  to  bring  up  the  rear. 

That  was  the  place  chosen  by  Mr.  Duff  and  Mr. 
Corwith,  the  other  civilian  guest. 

"  So  you're  out  to  see  the  country,  too,  are  you  ?  " 
queried  Mr.  Duff,  genially.  "  What  are  you  ?  Track 
inspector  in  advance  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  Terry  admitted,  a  little  uneasy  in 
his  faded  old  clothes.  But  clothes  seemed  to  make 
no  difference.  "  General  Dodge  said  I  could  be  his 
'  striker  ' —  that  means  help  around  his  tent,  and  Gen- 
eral Rawlins'  tent." 

"  Heat  the  water  for  the  bath,  eh  ?  "  laughed  Mr. 
Corwith. 

"  Shucks !  No,  Corwith !  Nobody  bathes  on  a  trip 
like  this,"  retorted  Mr.  Duff.  "  Not  unless  we  come 
to  some  hot  springs.  After  a  while  the  water'll  be  as 


86  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

cold  as  ice  —  right  out  of  the  snows.  Isn't  that  so, 
Terry?  Where's  your  home  town?" 

"  U.  P.  boarding-train,  end  o'  track,"  promptly  re- 
plied Terry.  "  It's  a  traveling  town,"  he  explained. 

"  I  should  say  so.  Ever  been  out  much  farther  in 
this  country  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  I've  ridden  on  the  stage  part  way  to 
Salt  Lake." 

"  That  must  have  been  a  great  trip.  But  think  of 
riding  by  railroad  there !  Whew !  The  stage  took 
about  ten  days,  didn't  it?  And  the  railroad'll  do  it 
in  three !  I  was  out  to  end  o'  track  last  fall  —  on  that 
big  excursion  from  the  East  and  Omaha.  We  started 
to  go  to  the  Hundreth  Meridian,  or  247  miles  from 
Omaha;  but  you  fellows  built  so  fast  that  we  kept 
going  till  we  were  thirty  miles  beyond." 

"  Yes,  sir.  They  all  laid  260  miles  of  track  in  eight 
months,  last  year.  This  year  General  Dodge  and  Gen- 
eral Casement  want  us  to  do  290,  about.  That'll  take 
us  over  the  top  of  the  Black  Hills  mountains." 

"But  what'll  they  do  without  your  help?"  asked 
Mr.  Corwith,  slyly. 

"  Aw,  I  don't  amount  to  much,"  Terry  informed, 
for  fear  they  might  think  he  had  bragged.  "  I  just 
ride  a  mule  that  hauls  a  truck-load  of  rails  for  the  men 
to  lay." 

"Don't  the  Indians  bother?" 

"  Some,"  admitted  Terry.  "  They  kill  the  men  they 
can  catch.  But  they  can't  whip  the  graders  or  track- 
layers in  a  regular  battle,  though." 

"  When  do  you  track-layers  expect  to  reach  Salt 
Lake?" 


OUT  INTO  THE  SURVEY  COUNTRY  87 

"  In  1870,  anyway.  It's  650  miles  yet.  Congress 
gives  us  till  1876  to  meet  the  C.  P.,  but  General  Dodge 
and  General  Casement  are  going  through  in  half  that 
time." 

"  You'll  have  to  tackle  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
though." 

"  Y-yes,"  said  Terry.     "  But  we'll  do  it." 

"  The  Central  Pacific  of  California  have  been  build- 
ing only  forty  or  fifty  miles  in  a  year,  in  their  moun- 
tains." 

"  We  can  beat  the  Central.  They  have  timber  and 
supplies  close  where  they're  working,  and  we  haul 
ours  clear  across  the  plains;  but  Casement's  Irish  can 
lick  the  Chinks  any  day,"  scoffed  Terry. 

"  Expect  to  beat  the  Central  to  Salt  Lake,  do  you?  " 

"  We're  going  to  meet  them  away  beyond  Salt  Lake. 
They'll  come  east  as  fast  as  they  can  and  we'll  go 
west  as  fast  as  we  can,  and  then  we'll  both  see." 

"  Yes ;  and  the  Central  Pacific  say  they'll  meet  the 
Union  Pacific  on  the  west  side  of  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
in  Utah,"  bantered  Mr.  Corwith. 

"  Well,  they  won't.  We'll  meet  them  before  they're 
out  of  California,"  boasted  Terry.  "  General  Case- 
ment says  he'll  put  on  10,000  more  men  and  be  grad- 
ing several  hundred  miles  ahead,  all  the  time.  The 
mountains  will  give  us  ties.  There  are  gangs  cutting 
timber  in  the  Black  Hills  now,  and  getting  it  ready.  A 
railroad  will  be  into  Council  Bluffs  across  from  Omaha, 
right  away,  so  we'll  get  our  rails  quick  from  the  East. 
We've  got  fifty  locomotives,  and  700  freight-cars,  to 
do  the  hauling  with,  and  next  year  there'll  be  a  lot 


88  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

more.  The  bridges  are  made  in  Chicago  and  shipped 
out  all  ready  to  be  put  up.  Our  men  lay  four  rails 
every  minute  —  just  as  fast  as  they  can  grab  and  run 
forward,"  he  added  proudly.  "  And  the  spikers  hit 
each  spike  only  three  times." 

"  We  can  see  that  you're  an  enthusiastic  U.  P. 
man,"  laughed  young  Mr.  Duff.  "  You  ought  to  be 
on  the  board  of  directors,  along  with  my  dad.  But 
the  question  now  is,  where  are  we  going?  Wonder 
if  we'll  meet  any  Indians." 

"  General  Dodge  plans  to  take  General  Rawlins 
through  to  Salt  Lake,  I  understand,"  spoke  Mr.  Cor- 
with.  "  The  surveys  have  been  made,  and  he  wants 
to  check  up.  We  cross  the  Black  Hills  by  the  pass 
he  discovered  two  years  ago,  when  the  Indians  chased 
him.  He  says  it's  a  remarkable  route  for  a  railroad 
— an  easy  climb  to  over  8,000  feet;  if  the  Indians 
hadn't  forced  him  into  it,  he  might  never  have  known 
about  it.  But  he  made  a  noie  of  it,  and  sent  the  sur- 
veyors out,  and  it's  all  right." 

"  How  long  before  we  reach  it,  then?  " 

"The  Black  Hills  are  150  miles  yet,  I  guess," 
said  Terry. 

"Ever  there?" 

"  No,  sir.  The  old  stage  road  and  the  Salt  Lake 
trail  went  up  around  north  of  them.  The  stage  road 
now  goes  south  of  them.  There's  never  been  any 
road  over  the  Black  Hills,  in  here." 

"  Well,  hope  we  see  some  Indians,  anyway,"  chatted 
Mr.  Duff.  "  But  all  these  soldiers  probably'll  scare 
'em  off.  I'd  like  to  be  out  with  one  of  those  survey- 


OUT  INTO  THE  SURVEY  COUNTRY  89 

ing  parties.     Those  are  the  fellows  who  have  the  good 
times/' 

"  George  Stanton  —  he's  my  partner  —  is  out  with 
one.  He's  out  with  Mr.  Bates,"  Terry  announced. 
"  General  Dodge  said  that  maybe  we'd  find  them." 

With  the  toiling  wagons,  they  were  several  days  in 
passing  the  many  gangs  of  graders.  The  low  huts, 
called  "  railroad  forts,"  of  sod  walls  and  sod  or  sheet- 
iron  roofs  only  about  four  feet  above  the  ground,  were 
strewn  for  miles  and  miles  in  advance  of  the  rails. 

The  old  Overland  stage  road  soon  branched  to  the 
north,  for  Fort  Laramie,  and  guided  by  only  the  rail- 
road grade,  the  General  Dodge  expedition  plodded  on. 
The  ties  ceased,  the  farthest  outpost  of  the  graders' 
camps  was  at  last  left  behind,  and  presently  the  final 
squad  of  construction  engineers  engaged  in  running  the 
line  of  stakes  and  levels,  had  been  dropped. 

Now  only  the  open  country  of  the  high  rolling 
plains  lay  before.  The  air  was  frosty,  at  night,  but 
warm  by  day.  The  curious  antelope  constantly  stared, 
with  heads  up,  at  the  march,  and  skimmed  away. 
They  supplied  fine  meat,  when  hunted  by  the  soldiers 
and  civilians.  General  Rawlins  appeared  to  be  en- 
joying himself  immensely,  but  he  was  not  strong. 

During  the  day  the  cavalry  rode  before  and  in  the 
rear,  and  scouted  on  the  flanks.  The  General  Dodge 
party  cantered  in  the  advance.  At  night  camp  was 
pitched,  in  military  order. 

This  seemed  like  home  ground,  to  the  general.  He 
had  explored  through  it  to  find  a  railroad  route  away 
back  in  1855;  and  he  had  campaigned  against  the 


9o  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

Sioux  and  Northern  Cheyennes,  hereabouts  and  be- 
yond, in  1865.  That  was  the  time  when  the  Indians 
had  helped  him  to  discover  his  pass. 

A  long  line  of  dusky,  frowning  mountains  was 
gradually  getting  higher  and  plainer  in  the  west. 
These,  said  the  general  and  Mr.  Van  Lennep,  were  the 
southern  end  of  the  Black  Hills  —  the  first  barrier  by 
the  Rocky  Mountains. 

"  I  think  that  tomorrow  we'll  strike  Crow  Creek," 
spoke  the  general,  tonight,  to  the  party  around  the  blaz- 
ing camp  fire.  "  That's  where  we  locate  the  next  divi- 
sion point,  at  the  eastern  base  of  the  Black  Hills.  I 
sent  word  to  General  Auger  at  Fort  Laramie  to  meet 
us  there.  He  has  instructions  from  General  Grant  to 
locate  a  military  post  where  the  railroad  locates  its 
division  point." 

"  Then  we  climb  the  mountains,  do  we,  general  ?  " 
young  Mr.  Duff  asked,  eagerly. 

"  Yes,  sir.  Up  we  go.  But  it's  a  very  easy  trail, 
by  a  long  ridge.  According  to  the  engineers'  esti- 
mates the  grade  is  only  ninety  feet  rise  to  the  mile. 
The  country  is  smooth  and  open.  As  soon  as  the 
Sioux  forced  my  detachment  to  follow  down  by  the 
ridge,  in  '65  when  we  were  returning  from  the  Powder 
River  campaign  up  north,  I  knew  that  we  had  found 
the  first  passage  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  In  fact, 
I  told  my  guide,  then:  '  If  we  save  our  scalps,  I  be- 
lieve we've  found  a  direct  railroad  pass  from  the 
plains/  And  as  soon  as  I  reached  Omaha,  I  described 
the  place  to  the  engineers  and  my  idea  proved  to  be 
correct.  In  the  morning  I'll  show  you  the  little  saddle, 


OUT  INTO  THE  SURVEY  COUNTRY  91 

on  top,  that  we've  named  Sherman  Summit,  in  honor 
of  General  Sherman." 

"And  what's  next,  general?" 

"  The  Laramie  Plains,  watered  by  the  Laramie 
River." 

"And  then  what?" 

"  A  great  basin,  without  any  water  at  all.  And  the 
Bitter  Creek  country  beyond  that,  where  the  water 
is  worse  than  none  at  all." 

"  But  where  do  you  cross  the  real  Rockies  —  the  big 
snow  mountains  ?  " 

"  Oh,  before  we  drop  down  into  the  Salt  Lake 
Valley.  But  we're  6,000  feet  up,  right  here  on  these 
plains.  Sherman  Summit  of  the  Black  Hills,  at  over 
8,000  feet,  will  be  the  highest  point  reached  by  the 
railroad.  There  are  several  passes  in  the  snowy  range, 
of  between  7,000  and  8,000  feet,  that  we  can  use. 
This  Sherman  Pass  is  the  only  one  yet  discovered  by  us 
that  will  take  us  over  the  front  range.  The  company 
engineers  spent  two  years  in  the  field,  exploring  all 
the  way  from  Denver  up  to  the  old  South  Pass  of 
the  Oregon  Trail,  looking  for  just  this  very  thing; 
and  then  it  was  found  by  accident  —  thanks  to  the 
Indians." 

"  Rather  a  joke  on  them,  that  when  they  tried  to 
keep  you  out  they  showed  you  through,"  laughed 
Major  Dunn,  the  aide-de-camp. 

'  There's  something  almost  miraculous  about  it," 
added  General  Rawlins.  "  But  the  Central  Pacific 
hasn't  been  as  fortunate,  I  understand." 

"  No,  sir.     They  had  a  head  start  on  us,  but  the 


92  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

Sierra  Nevadas  have  fought  them  hard.  While  we've 
been  laying  370  miles  of  track  across  the  plains,  they've 
been  held  to  120.  They  have  an  enormous  amount  of 
blasting  and  tunneling  and  trestle  building.  In  100 
miles  they're  obliged  to  climb  from  sea  level  to  over 
7,000  feet.  It's  a  big  job  and  they're  not  out  yet. 
The  snows  there  are  heavier  than  in  the  Rockies." 

"  Some  people  say  the  railroad  across  continent 
can't  be  operated  in  winter  at  all,  on  account  of  the 
cold  and  snow  in  the  mountains,"  put  in  Mr.  Corwith. 

"  Nonsense,"  muttered  Mr.  Van  Lennep. 

General  Dodge  laughed. 

"  Oh,  when  the  road  is  built,  the  operating  will  be 
attended  to.  American  engine  men  and  train  crews 
who  have  fought  Indians  from  cab  and  box  car  and 
caboose,  and  hauled  supplies  in  spite  of  savages  and 
weather  and  new  road-bed  will  get  the  trains  through, 


snow  or  no  snow." 


This  was  the  first  of  July.  The  next  morning  they 
rode  on,  and  made  noon  camp  on  Crow  Creek  — 
named,  General  Dodge  explained,  not  for  the  bird 
but  for  the  Crow  Indians.  The  camp  was  to  be  a 
camp  for  several  days,  or  until  the  general  had  picked 
out  the  best  location  for  the  division  point. 

There  was  no  sign  of  any  railroad  grade  —  except 
in  the  distance  before,  and  behind,  tall  stakes  with 
white  rags  tied  to  them :  surveyors'  flags,  planted  this 
spring  or  last  fall.  So  the  grade  was  only  waiting 
for  pick  and  spade  to  awaken  it. 

"  Those  things  extend  clear  to  Nevady,"  grunted 
Sol  Judy.  "  Injuns  look  on  'em  as  heap  medicine. 


OUT  INTO  THE  SURVEY  COUNTRY  93 

They're  dead  afraid  to  touch  'em.  They're  leary  of 
the  way  the  surveyors  can  squint  through  a  telescope 
set  on  three  sticks,  and  set  a  flag  further  off'n  it  can 
be  seen  by  an  Injun  eye.  They  used  to  call  the  gen- 
eral *  Long  Eye,'  and  when  he  began  to  lick  'em, 
they  got  the  notion  he  could  shoot  as  far  as  he  could 
see  with  his  spy-glass." 

General  Dodge  had  taken  General  Rawlings,  Colonel 
Seymour,  General  Casement,  Superintendent  Reed  and 
the  Government  officials,  with  an  escort  of  the  cavalry, 
to  reconnoiter  along  the  line.  Mr.  Van  Lennep  stayed 
to  write  up  some  geological  notes,  and  the  rest  loafed 
around  camp. 

The  Black  Hills,  bulky  and  dark  and  brooding, 
loomed  near  in  the  west.  They  did  not  appear  so  very 
high,  because  they  were  so  big  and  rounded;  pines 
on  them  gave  them  their  name  "  Black."  Down  here 
on  the  plains  there  were  few  trees;  everything  was 
whity-brown. 

Sol  jerked  his  head  to  the  northward  and  spoke 
shortly. 

"  Here  they  come." 

"Who?     The  Indians?" 

"Nope.  Those  aren't  Injuns;  they're  troops  — 
cavalry.  General  Augur  and  his  escort  from  Laramie, 
I  reckon." 

"What  makes  you  think  they're  soldiers,  Sol?" 
questioned  young  Mr.  Duff.  "  Maybe  they're  Sioux." 

"I  don't  think;  I  know,"  Sol  retorted.  "Don't 
you  s'pose  I  can  tell  the  difference  'tween  a  white  man 
and  an  Injun,  far  as  I  can  see?  " 


94  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

Sol's  eyes  were  the  best  in  the  camp;  for  when  Mr. 
Van  Lennep  leveled  his  field-glasses  upon  the  little 
bunch  of  moving  figures  wending  down  over  the  roll- 
ing ridge  of  the  north,  he  pronounced  them  soldiers, 
sure  enough. 

They  drew  on.  Presently  the  cavalry  formed  to 
receive  them,  and  Colonel  Mizner  galloped  out  to 
meet  them. 

It  was  General  C.  C.  Augur,  all  right,  commanding 
the  Department  of  the  Platte,  and  an  escort  of  a  troop 
of  the  Second  Cavalry,  from  the  headquarters  post, 
old  Fort  Laramie. 

"  Yes,  by  gosh,  and  old  Jim  Bridger !  Hooray ! 
Dod  rot  my  cats !  "  And  Sol,  striding  out,  shook 
hands  heartily  with  the  guide. 

"Jim  Bridger!  That's  the  man  I've  been  wanting 
to  see,"  exclaimed  young  Mr.  Duff.  "  He  and  Kit 
Carson  are  famous,  aren't  they  ?  They're  the  greatest 
scouts  in  the  West." 

Sol  Judy  and  Jim  Bridger  proceeded  to  squat  and 
hobnob,  while  Terry  and  Mr.  Duff  —  and  Mr.  Cor- 
with,  too  —  lingered  near,  curiously  listening.  Gen- 
eral Dodge's  party  returned  in  haste.  Tonight  all 
camped  together.  The  general  had  about  decided  upon 
a  site  for  the  division  town;  but  old  Jim  principally 
held  the  floor  with  his  funny  stories  and  quaint  re- 
marks. 

He  was  a  tall,  wiry,  leather-faced  man;  not  so  very 
old  in  years  but  old  in  experience.  Had  trapped 
beaver  in  the  far  West  since  1823  —  had  explored  the 
Salt  Lake  in  a  skin  boat  in  1826  —  claimed  to  have 


OUT  INTO  THE  SURVEY  COUNTRY  95 

been  through  the  marvelous  Yellowstone  region  years 
before  it  was  known  to  white  men  —  had  been  owner 
of  the  Bridger's  Fort  trading  post,  in  the  mountains 
on  the  Salt  Lake  and  California  Overland  trail  until 
the  Mormons  of  Utah  had  driven  him  out  —  had 
guided  the  army  through  Indian  country;  and  withal 
was  so  full  of  funny  stories  that  he  could  keep  every- 
body in  a  roar. 

He  and  General  Dodge  were  great  friends. 

"  These  gents  thought  I  couldn't  tell  you  fellows 
from  Injuns,  Jim,"  complained  Sol.  "Yes,  sir;  and 
didn't  believe  me  till  they  leveled  the  glasses  on  you. 
Just  as  though  I  didn't  have  eyes  of  my  own." 

"  Pshaw,  now;  that's  not  a  wrinkle  to  what  I've  had 
to  put  up  with,"  drawled  old  Jim.  "  When  I  was 
guidin'  the  troops  on  that  thar  Powder  River  cam- 
paign, same  time  Gin'ral  Dodge  was  out,  I  see  an 
Injun  smoke  only  'bout  fifty  miles  yon,  t'other  side 
a  few  mountains,  an'  I  reported  to  the  cap'n.  Says  I : 
'  Cap'n,  thar's  an  Injun  camp  yon,  t'other  side  them 
mountains,  an'  they're  watchin'  ye,  like  as  not.' 
'  Whar,  major?'  says  he.  'Right  over  thar  by  that 
'er  saddle/  says  I,  p'intin'  for  him.  Wall,  the  cap'n 
looked  through  his  spy-glass,  an'  said  he  couldn't 
see  nary  smoke.  Then  he  reported  to  the  gin'ral  — 
Gin'ral  Conner,  that  was  —  an'  the  gin'ral  he  looked 
through  his  glass,  an'  he  couldn't  see.  An'  thar  was 
the  smoke  colyumns  as  plain  as  the  nose  on  your  face, 
only  fifty  mile  away.  So  I  didn't  say  'nother  word, 
'cept  that  it  had  come  to  a  pretty  state  o'  things  when 
a  passel  o'  paper-collar  soldiers'd  tell  a  reg'lar  moun- 


96  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

tain-man  that  thar  wasn't  smoke  when  thar  was. 
But  in  two  days  some  o'  Cap'n  North's  Pawnees  come 
in  from  a  scout  yonder  an'  blamed  if  they  didn't  say 
they'd  located  an  Injun  village  precisely  whar  I'd  seen 
that  thar  smoke.  So  all  we  had  to  do  was  to  go  over 
an'  get  the  Injuns,  in  the  battle  o'  Tongue  River." 

"  You  must  have  wonderful  eyesight,  major,"  com- 
plimented Mr.  Corwith.  "  I  expect  you  are  used  to 
seeing  things." 

'  Yep,  arter  forty  years  in  the  mountains  a  man 
gets  used  to  seein'  things.  But  even  then  he  can't 
'most  always  sometimes  tell.  Did  ye  ever  hear  about 
when  I  was  in  the  Yallerstone?  Wall,  one  time  thar, 
I  think  I  see  a  passel  o'  Injuns  in  camp  'bout  three 
mile  off,  an'  I  reckoned  they  saw  me;  but  I  watched 
'em  a  long  time,  kinder  curyus,  an'  they  didn't  get  any 
closer;  an'  when  I  was  sneakin'  'round,  durned  if  I 
didn't  run  slap  ag'in  the  side  of  a  mountain,  solid 
crystal,  cl'ar  as  air,  an*  three  miles  through.  You 
see,  them  Injuns  war  on  t'other  side  of  it;  an*  they 
couldn't  get  at  me  an'  I  couldn't  get  at  them." 

"  That  wasn't  the  same  mountain  the  Indians  chased 
you  around,  was  it,  major?"  slyly  asked  General 
Dodge. 

"  No,  sir.  But  that  thar  was  a  great  trick,  wasn't 
it?  You  see,  gents,  some  Injuns  got  arter  me,  on  the 
side  of  a  mountain.  So  I  jest  run  an'  run,  afoot, 
'round  an'  'round,  like  a  squirrel  on  a  stump,  an*  they 
tuk  arter.  We  all  run  an'  we  run;  and  what  with 
bein'  on  a  slant,  like,  pretty  soon  the  down-hill  legs 
o'  the  Injuns'  ponies  got  stretched,  tryin'  to  keep 


OUT  INTO  THE  SURVEY  COUNTRY  97 

their  f ootin' ;  an*  when  I  seed,  I  made  for  level  ground. 
Then  the  ponies  couldn't  do  nothin'  but  run  circles, 
their  legs  bein'  unequal;  an'  I  got  away,  easy." 

The  next  morning  the  site  of  the  new  division 
point  was  staked  by  Mr.  Evans  and  surveyors,  under 
direction  of  General  Dodge.  There  did  not  seem 
to  be  much  choice  —  the  bare  rolling  plains  looked  all 
much  the  same,  clear  to  the  foot  of  the  Laramie  Range 
which  was  called  the  Black  Hills;  but  he  had  figured 
closely.  Crow  Creek  would  supply  water ;  Denver  was 
about  115  miles  south,  Julesburg  was  140  miles  east 
—  a  branch  line  would  be  run  down  to  Denver,  and 
the  trains  from  the  east  would  change  engines  here, 
for  the  climb  over  the  Black  Hills.  It  would  be  a 
place  for  a  junction,  and  for  a  round-house. 

"  I  name  it  Cheyenne,"  said  the  general,  "  for  Chey- 
enne Pass,  which  you  see  to  the  north." 

"  The  military  post  will  be  just  north,  gentlemen," 
quoth  General  Augur.  "  The  War  Department  ap- 
proving, it  will  be  named  Fort  D.  A.  Russell,  in  honor 
of  Major-General  David  Allen  Russell,  a  gallant  sol- 
dier who  won  honors  in  the  Mexican  War  and  was 
killed  in  battle  September  19,  1864,  where  his  con- 
duct gained  him  the  brevet  of  major-general." 

"  Wall,  this  hyar  business  o'  locatin'  towns  whar 
thar  ain't  people  seems  to  be  rather  pecoolar,"  drawled 
Jim  Bridger.  "  A  feller  hyar  with  last  month's  pay 
in  his  pocket  couldn't  spend  a  cent.  Anyhow,  thar's 
plenty  elbow  room.  That's  the  best  thing  about  it." 

"  Wait  till  the  news  gets  to  Denver,  and  Julesburg. 
In  six  months  you  won't  be  able  to  turn  around, 


98  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

where  you're  now  standing,"  smiled  Mr.  Van  Lennep. 

"  Listen !  "  General  Dodge  sharply  ordered. 

Distant  in  the  south  there  welled  the  faint  reports 
of  volleying  fire-arms. 

"  Injun  scrimmage,  shore/5  pronounced  old  Jim. 
"  Fust  an'  original  inhabitants  are  on  hand." 

"  Sounds  like  an  attack  on  a  wagon  train,"  rapped 
the  general.  "  Mount,  gentlemen." 

"  Here  come  the  cavalry.  Hurrah !  "  cheered  young 
Mr.  Duff. 

The  soldier  escort  were  straightening  in  their  sad- 
dles, awaiting  command;  but  from  the  camp  a  bugle 
had  pealed,  and  Troops  B  and  M,  led  by  Lieutenant 
Wheelan  and  Surgeon  Terry,  were  tearing  in  columns 
of  fours  across  the  plain,  following  the  battle  signals. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

GENERAL   DODGE    SHOWS   THE    WAY 

"  COME  on.  Let's  see  the  fun !  "  excitedly  cried 
young  Mr.  Duff,  to  Terry.  "  Maybe  we  can  take  a 
hand." 

"  Yes  —  an'  mebbe  you'll  lose  yore  hair,"  Jim 
Bridger  reproved. 

"  What  do  you  say,  General  Rawlins  ?  Shall  we  go 
over  ?  "  General  Dodge  queried  —  in  tone  about  as 
eager  as  Mr.  Duff's.  "  We  can  show  you  Indian 
fighting " 

"  General  Augur  commands,  here,  I  believe.  We're 
in  his  department.  If  he  thinks  best " 

General  Augur  immediately  barked  a  gruff  com- 
mand. The  lieutenant  in  charge  of  the  escort  com- 
pany shouted  gladly.  The  company  were  already  at 
attention,  ready. 

"  By  fours,  march !  Column  right,  march ! 
Comp'ny,  trot !  "  And  -  "  Gallop !  " 

Away  they  dashed :  The  cavalry,  old  Jim  Bridger 
(who  rode  like  an  Indian,  his  long  hair  streaming  from 
under  his  greasy  slouch  hat),  General  Dodge,  General 
Rawlins,  General  Augur,  General  Myers,  Colonel 
Mizner,  Major  Dunn,  young  Mr.  Duff,  Mr.  Corwith, 
Mr.  Van  Lennep  the  geologist,  Sol,  Terry,  and  all. 

"The  yaller  legs  are  thar,"  called  Jim.  For  the 

99 


ioo          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

bugle  had  shrilled  again,  from  the  two  companies  now 
out  of  sight;  and  the  heavy  reports  of  the  cavalry 
carbines  joined  with  the  other  battle  sounds. 

"  Right  front  into  line ! "  The  cavalry  escort 
spread  into  company  front;  but  as  they  charged  into 
sight  of  the  field,  the  gun-shots  had  become  fitful  and 
scattered.  From  the  last  little  rise  they  saw  what  had 
occurred. 

Down  in  the  flat,  before,  a  number  of  hooded  wagons 
had  partially  corralled,  or  formed  a  circle  —  the  horses 
still  hitched.  Beyond,  a  portion  of  the  cavalry  were 
pursuing  some  fleeing  Indians;  and  the  rest  of  the 
cavalry  were  rounding  up  and  catching  a  quantity  of 
loose  horses  and  cattle. 

Doctor  Terry  was  busy,  passing  among  the  wagons, 
occasionally  stopping  here  and  there. 

"Pshaw!  We're  too  late,"  panted  Mr.  Duff,  as 
everybody  slackened  pace.  "  What  is  it  —  emigrant 
train?" 

"  No.  A  grading  outfit  coming  in  to  the  road," 
answered  General  Dodge.  "  Who  were  the  Indians, 
major?  Cheyennes,  I  judge." 

"  Sioux,  too,  I  reckon,"  replied  Jim  Bridger.  "  A 
passel  o'  Dog  Soldiers,  like  as  not." 

"  Cavalry  made  'em  run.  They  can't  stand  the 
cavalry,"  exulted  Mr.  Corwith. 

"  Aw,  sho',  now !  "  grunted  Jim.  "  Pony  soldiers 
don't  worry  'em  none.  It's  the  walk-a-heap  soldiers 
that  set  'em  to  thinkin'.  They  know  the  walk-a-heaps 
have  got  to  fight  or  be  killed  —  can't  run  off." 

"  They  certainly  made  a  bold  attempt,  to  attack  like 


GENERAL  DODGE  SHOWS  THE  WAY      IQI 

this   within   a   mile   of    a    military   camp,"    GnVcr-J 
Rawlins  remarked. 

"That's  their  style  of  fighting,  general,"  replied 
General  Augur.  "  When  you  don't  see  them  and  don't 
expect  them,  there  they  are." 

It  was  a  Mormon  wagon  train  to  help  the  road 
along.  The  Indians  had  ambushed  them  from  a 
Yavine  —  had  killed  two  men,  wounded  others, 
stampeded  the  loose  stock,  and  likely  would  have 
"  wiped  out "  the  whole  party,  Jim  Bridger  asserted, 
had  the  troops  not  arrived  in  nick  of  time. 

"  That's  a  sample  of  what's  been  happening  to  train 
crews,  track-layers,  graders,  and  survey  parties  from 
Fort  Kearney  in  Nebraska  clear  to  the  mountains, 
general,"  remarked  General  Dodge  to  General  Rawlins. 
"  The  people  out  East  cannot  appreciate.  We're 
simply  having  to  fight  our  way  through,  and  every 
mile  is  stained  with  blood.  It  was  only  six  miles  east 
of  Cheyenne  that  poor  Hills,  one  of  my  best  chief 
assistant  engineers,  was  killed." 

Their  wounded  having  been  attended  to  by  Dr. 
Terry,  the  Mormon  graders  sent  a  delegation  to  the 
division  site,  where  the  two  dead  were  to  be  buried. 

"  We  start  that  thar  town  with  a  graveyard,"  Jim 
Bridger  grimly  announced.  "  An'  they  ain't  the  last 
who'll  be  buried  thar  with  their  boots  on." 

The  sturdy  Mormon  graders  were  given  a  small 
escort  of  the  cavalry,  to  guard  them  on  their  farther 
journey.  They  reported  that  the  Indians  were  very 
bad,  along  the  trail  west. 

"  We'll   camp   here   another   day,    and    spend   the 


102          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 


Fourth,"  General . Dodge  said,  this  night.  "I  think 
it  will  be  only  fitting  for  General  Rawlins,  who  rep- 
resents the  commander  of  the  United  States  Army, 
to  make  the  Independence  address,  as  Orator  of  the 
Day/' 

"  I'll  do  it  with  pleasure,  sir,"  agreed  General 
Rawlins. 

Two  other  surveying  parties,  under  Assistant 
Engineers  Maxwell  and  O'Neill,  joined  the  camp. 
The  next  day  General  Rawlins  delivered  a  splendid 
patriotic  speech,  to  the  paraded  cavalry,  the  wagon 
train  and  the  railroad  men  —  here,  July  4,  1867,  on 
the  site  of  the  future  city  of  Cheyenne,  Wyoming. 

After  that  there  was  a  split-up.  Mr.  Maxwell  and 
Mr.  O'Neill  and  their  surveyors  were  set  at  work  com- 
pleting the  survey  lines  from  the  east  into  Cheyenne, 
so  as  to  have  it  ready  for  the  graders  from  Jules- 
burg.  When  they  had  done  this,  they  were  to  finish 
the  surveying  of  the  town  lots  of  new  Cheyenne. 

General  Augur  and  his  escort  rode  for  Fort 
Laramie,  northward.  General  Myers  went  back  to 
end  o'  track,  for  Fort  McPherson  near  North  Platte, 
in  order  to  attend  to  his  quartermaster's  department. 

Geologist  Van  Lennep  prepared  to  scout  southward, 
and  locate  coal  fields.  Coal  fields  and  building  stone 
and  minerals  were  important  on  a  railroad  route. 

Taking  General  Casement,  the  chief  "  builder,"  and 
General  Rawlins,  the  guest  of  honor,  and  Division 
Engineer  Evans,  and  the  government  officials,  and  the 
rest,  including,  of  course,  Terry,  General  Dodge  pro- 
ceeded west. 


• 


GENERAL  DODGE  SHOWS  THE  WAY     103 

"  By  the  time  we  return  through  here,  there'll  be  a 
town  in  full  blast,"  promised  the  general. 

"  We're  empire  builders,  not  railroad  builders," 
laughed  Mr.  Corwith.  "As  we  travel  on,  we  leave 
towns  where  we  tread." 

"  I  feel  like  a  Columbus,  myself,"  young  Mr.  Duff 
declared.  "  Opening  a  new  world." 

tf  Well,  you  know  what  Senator  Benton  said,  twenty 
years  ago.  He  proposed  that  where  the  first  railroad 
crossed  the  Rocky  Mountains  the  Government  ought 
to  carve  a  big  figure  of  Christopher  Columbus  out  of 
a  peak,  overlooking  the  rails  east  and  west." 

'  Yes,  and  when  somebody  called  such  a  line  a 
modern  Colossus  of  Rhodes,  another  senator  twisted 
it  into  Colossus  of  Rail-Roads!  " 

"  When  do  we  strike  the  pass,  general  ?  " 

"  We'll  be  into  it  when  we  camp  tonight.  But  I'll 
wager  that  none  of  you  will  know  the  difference." 

"What,  sir?" 

"  There  is  Evans  Pass,  gentlemen,  in  plain  sight. 
First  named  Lone  Tree  Pass,  then  Sherman  Pass,  and 
finally  changed  to  Evans  Pass  in  honor  of  Mr.  Evans 
himself,  who  was  the  chief  engineer  in  the  field  party 
that  surveyed  it  after  I  had  described  the  landmarks 
to  him.  He  found  it  by  a  lone  tree  at  the  foot.  You 
may  have  noticed  a  lone  pine,  a  short  distance  back. 
That  was  our  landmark." 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  call  it  a  pass,  general,"  ven- 
tured Mr.  Corwith. 

"  Well,  it's  a  pass  because  it  gets  the  railroad  over 
the  high  country.  Nature  seems  to  have  made  it 


104          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

especially  for  a  trans-continental  railroad.  We  are 
following  the  backbone  of  a  long  ridge  which  extends 
from  the  plains  to  the  top  of  the  Black  Hills.  These 
Black  Hills  don't  look  to  be  so  very  difficult,  but  their 
flanks  are  so  broken  by  ravines  and  steep  slopes,  that 
the  grades  and  fills  are  impossible.  This  ridge  is  a 
natural  divide  with  scarcely  a  break,  and  carries  the 
road  like  an  inclined  trestle.  We  rise  2,000  feet  in 
thirty-two  miles ;  that  gives  us,  according  to  Mr.  Evans' 
surveys,  a  maximum  grade  of  ninety  feet  to  a  mile, 
and  the  Government  allows  us  116  feet  to  a  mile,  at  a 
pinch." 

"  You  consider  this  the  beginning  of  the  base  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  do  you,  general?"  queried  Mr. 
Blickensderfer. 

'  Yes,  sir.  In  fact,  the  base  begins  at  Cheyenne, 
as  you  and  Mr.  Carter  may  determine  from  the  table 
of  altitudes  prepared  by  the  engineers.  The  rise  is  de- 
ceptive. It's  the  only  bit  of  good  luck  we've  struck. 
Our  engineers  looked  for  two  years,  tb  find  it." 

"  The  Government  allows  you  $48,000  a  mile,  in 
building  over  the  mountains,  doesn't  it?"  asked  Gen- 
eral Rawlins.  "  And  you  can  build  here  almost  as 
fast  as  on  the  plains." 

"  Faster.  But  the  allowance  is  $48,000  a  mile  for 
only  the  first  150  miles  from  the  base  of  the  mountains. 
After  that  we  get  $32,000  a  mile  for  the  distance  to  the 
base  of  the  California  mountains.  On  the  plains,  to 
this  point,  we've  been  allowed  $16,000  a  mile,  and  that 
nearly  beat  us.  We've  had  to  haul  our  ties  and  iron 
and  timbers  and  supplies  at  ruinous  expense.  How- 


GENERAL  DODGE  SHOWS  THE  WAY   105 

ever,  here  we're  close  in  touch  with  the  timbered 
mountains  and  we  may  be  enabled  to  float  our  ties 
down  the  streams  to  points  near  the  grades;  this  red 
decomposed  granite  underfoot  makes  perfect  ballast; 
many  of  the  cuts  will  be  in  soft  soil;  and  we'll  have 
good  coal  for  the  engines.  Cheap  fuel  is  an  important 
item  in  railroading.  The  next  engines  to  be  sent  out 
from  the  East  will  be  coal-burners  instead  of  wood- 
burners." 

Assuredly,  Terry  thought,  there  were  a  number  of 
items  to  be  planned  for,  when  building  a  railroad 
line. 

"  So,"  continued  the  general,  "  at  $48,000  a  mile,  in 
such  a  country,  we  may  be  able  to  save  a  little  money 
for  the  work  ahead,  where  we'll  get  only  $32,000  a 
mile,  mountains  or  no  mountains.  The  Central  Pacific 
had  easier  going,  at  the  start.  They  began  almost 
at  once  with  $48,000  a  mile,  in  the  California  foot- 
hills; but  as  they  climb,  they've  found  so  much  blast- 
ing and  tunneling  and  bridging  necessary,  that  their 
mountain  money  looks  about  as  small  to  them  as  our 
plains  money  to  us.  It  will  be  nip  and  tuck  between 
us." 

"  We'll  get  there  first,  just  the  same,"  Terry  blurted. 
He  could  not  help  it. 

"  Where,  young  man  ?  " 

"To  Salt  Lake,  and  a  lot  farther,  too,  sir!  " 

"  Hurrah  for  the  track-layer  gang!  "  cheered  young 
Mr.  Duff;  and  they  all  laughed. 

The  climb  could  be  felt,  if  not  seen.  The  saddle- 
animals  puffed,  the  four-horse  and  six-horse  wagon- 


io6 


OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 


train  teams  tugged  at  the  heavy  wagons.  The  trail, 
marked  by  the  few  survey  stakes  and  flags  set  last  year 
by  Engineer  Evans,  stretched  on,  across  little  ridges 
and  flats  and  ravines,  each  higher  than  the  preceding 
one.  Crow  Creek  seemed  to  have  sunk  into  a  broad 
valley,  below  and  behind,  and  the  site  of  Cheyenne, 
with  its  two  graves,  had  merged  into  an  unfolding  flat- 
ness. Mr.  Blickensderfer,  who  had  been  sent  by  the 
President  to  decide  upon  the  real  base  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  could  not  but  admit  that  the  base  was 
back  where  the  engineers'  map  located  it. 

The  country  before  and  beyond  unfolded,  too,  little 
by  little,  and  spread  out  in  vastness.  A  mountain 
chain  —  mountains  with  snow  patches  on  them  —  up- 
lifted far  and  farther,  high  and  higher.  The  breeze 
began  to  waft  chill.  The  outcrops  of  rocks  were 
many  and  curious,  like  witches  and  giants  and  towers. 

The  next  afternoon  the  general  suddenly  halted  the 
advance,  scanned  right  and  left  intently,  and  with  a 
word  to  Engineer  Evans  removed  his  slouch  hat. 

"  Sherman  Summit,  gentlemen.  This  is  the  top, 
at  8,250  feet.  Sherman  Station  and  a  water  tank 
will  be  on  this  very  spot." 

"  Over  already,  general  ?  " 

"  Down  grade  from  here  on." 

"  Couldn't  you  have  run  the  road  around  the  north 
end  of  this  divide?"  asked  Mr.  Blickensderfer. 

"  Yes,  we  could.  The  engineers  surveyed  for  a  line 
there,  to  strike  the  old  Oregon  Trail  and  the  famous 
South  Pass  which  had  been  used  for  many  years  by 
the  emigrants.  But  we  would  lose  a  number  of  miles, 


GENERAL  DODGE  SHOWS  THE  WAY      107 

and  we'd  miss  the  coal-fields.  We  also  wished  to  build 
around  the  south,  through  Denver,  but  the  mountains 
of  Colorado  seem  to  offer  no  easy  passes." 

'  This  isn't  the  Continental  Divide,  is  it,  general  ? 
Not  the  divide  between  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific?" 

"  No.  It's  a  spur  of  the  front  range  of  the  Rockies. 
Yonder  in  the  west  you  can  see  the  Continental  Divide 
—  a  portion  of  it:  the  Medicine  Bow  Range  of  the 
main  Rockies.  From  here  the  road  descends  into  the 
Laramie  Plains,  and  follows  a  wide  trough  or  basin 
for  perhaps  100  miles  northwest,  to  round  the  Medicine 
Bow.  After  that,  from  the  North  Platte  River  the 
route  is  undetermined,  but  is  being  surveyed." 

"  Yes,  and  once  across  the  Laramie  Plains  you'll 
carry  yore  water  with  you,"  said  Sol  Judy,  gazing 
ahead  as,  dismounted,  he  leaned  on  his  long  musket. 
"  By  Jinks,  beyond  the  Plains  there's  a  stretch  of  desert 
country  that  even  a  bird  can't  cross  without  packing 
its  own  supplies." 

"  Which  is  one  thing  that  we've  come  to  look  into," 
General  Dodge  replied.  "  Percy  Browne  and  his 
party  are  running  a  line,  over  in  there,  now.  He  has 
the  division  from  the  North  Platte  River  west  to 
Green  River,  180  miles.  The  Tom  Bates  party  are 
off  in  there,  too,"  the  general  added  kindly,  to  Terry. 
"  They're  working  east  from  the  Wasatch  Mountains 
of  Utah,  while  Browne  works  west  from  the  North 
Platte  edge  of  the  Laramie  Plains.  So  we'll  keep  an 
eye  out  for  your  boy  friend." 

"  About  like  looking  for  a  needle  in  a  haystack," 
remarked  young  Duff,  aside,  to  Terry.  "  That  all  is 
the  biggest  country  I  ever  saw." 


io8          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

And  big  it  was,  as  they  marched  down  from  Sher- 
man Summit :  range  after  range  of  towering  mountains 
to  south,  west,  and  north  with  glimpses  of  immense 
valleys  between,  and  the  slumberous  basin  of  the 
Laramie  Plains  below. 

Engineer  Evans'  survey  stakes  led  on.  He  had  run 
the  line  clear  to  the  Laramie  River  at  Fort  Sanders. 
Superintendent  Reed  was  an  engineer,  also,  and  had 
surveyed  through  the  Wasatch  Mountains  and  down 
to  Salt  Lake,  in  1864.  The  talk  about  the  country 
ahead  was  mighty  interesting  to  Terry,  and  Mr.  Cor- 
with,  and  young  Mr.  Duff. 

Sol  Judy  and  others  spoke  well  of  the  Laramie 
Plains. 

"  The  finest  hunting-country  in  the  world,  down 
there,"  asserted  Sol.  "  Plenty  running  water,  buffalo, 
antelope,  beaver,  and  Injuns.  But  t'other  side  —  I  tell 
you,  a  jack-rabbit  won't  go  in  without  a  canteen,  and 
a  crow  sheds  tears  when  he  bids  his  family  good-by." 

They  camped  this  night  on  the  west  slope  of  Sher- 
man Summit,  amidst  more  strange  rock  figures,  of 
chimneys  and  spires  and  castle  turrets.  Then  they 
wound  on  down,  to  refit  at  Fort  Sanders  near  present 

Laramie  City  of  Wyoming ''  The  terminal  point 

of  the  288  miles  of  track  that  we  expect  to  lay  this 
year,  although  people  say  that  we  can't  do  it,"  ex- 
plained General  Dodge. 

At  Fort  Sanders  they  received  bad  news. 

Young  Mr.  Duff  brought  the  word  out  to  the  camp, 
while  the  general  and  others  were  at  the  post  head- 
quarters talking  with  Colonel  Gibbon,  the  commander. 


GENERAL  DODGE  SHOWS  THE  WAY      109 

"  Well,  the  Indians  have  added  some  more  graves 
to  the  survey  stakes,  boys,"  he  said. 
"What?" 

"Where?" 

"  How  do  you  know?  " 

"  Mr.  Van  Lennep  told  me  —  and  I  heard  it  at  head- 
quarters, too.  Van  Lennep's  been  here  several  days, 
waiting  for  us.  It's  the  Percy  Browne  party,  this 
time.  The  Sioux  struck  them  north  of  here,  short 
time  ago ;  killed  a  cavalry  sergeant  —  fine  fellow  — 
and  a  civilian  named  Stephen  Clark,  from  Albany, 
New  York  —  another  fine  fellow.  He  was  a  nephew 
of  Thurlow  Weed,  the  big  New  York  State  politician 
and  editor.  The  Indians  almost  captured  the  whole 
camp;  ran  off  some  mules  and  seized  a  lot  of  sup- 
plies. Mr.  Browne  brought  Clark's  body  in  here,  to 
the  fort,  for  burial.  Then  he  went  out  again.  No 
Indians  can  stop  those  surveyors." 

"  Did  you  hear  anything  about  the  Mr.  Bates 
party?  "  Terry  asked,  anxiously. 

"  No,  I  guess  they're  away  out,  beyond  reach.  The 
soldiers  say  the  Sioux  are  on  a  rampage,  this  year. 
Hope  nobody  else  is  killed.  We're  going  to  travel 
along,  just  the  same.  The  general  means  to  find  the 
Browne  and  the  Bates  gangs,  and  see  about  matters. 
We've  got  men  enough  to  lick  the  reds." 

Fort  Sanders  was  a  small,  lonely  post,  beside  the 
Laramie  River  in  the  south  end  of  the  Laramie  Plains, 
twenty-five  miles  from  Sherman  Summit.  Colonel, 
or  General,  John  Gibbon  of  the  Thirty-sixth  Infantry 
commanded.  There  was  one  troop,  G,  of  the  Second 


no 


OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 


Cavalry,   under  First  Lieutenant  John  A.   Wanless. 

Lieutenant  Wanless  and  other  officers  paid  a  visit 
to  the  cavalry  camp  of  the  expedition;  and  when,  after 
two  or  three  days  of  resting  and  out-fitting,  the  expedi- 
tion pulled  out  again,  Lieutenant  Wanless  rode  a  half 
mile  with  his  brother  cavalrymen. 

"  Good-by  and  good  luck,"  he  bade.  "  You  clean 
the  trail  in  the  one  direction  and  we'll  be  watching  for 
the  engine  smoke  in  the  other." 


CHAPTER  IX 

MORE   BAD    NEWS 

IT  was  the  easy  Rattlesnake  Pass  that  finally  led  out 
from  the  farther  edge  of  the  great  Laramie  Plains, 
and  down  to  the  North  Platte  River. 

"  There's  the  last  of  the  main  streams  which  flow 
eastward,  men,"  remarked  General  Dodge,  as  from 
the  top  of  the  pass  they  emerged  into  view  of  the 
valley  below.  "  Once  across  that,  and  over  the  next 
plateau,  and  we'll  be  into  the  unknown  country." 

"  Can  we  see  the  Overland  stage  road,  general?  " 

"  It  keeps  to  the  base  of  those  south  hills,  on  the 
headwaters  of  the  side  streams,  for  fording." 

"  I  should  think  that  the  railroad  would  follow  the 
stage  road,  by  the  trail  already  made,"  spoke  Mr. 
Corwith. 

The  general  smiled. 

"  No.  The  grades  are  too  sharp  and  there  are 
too  many  ravines  and  gulches,  too  many  streams,  too 
many  detours.  A  railroad  always  seeks  the  path  of 
least  resistance;  and  we're  limited  by  the  Government 
to  the  grade  of  116  feet  to  the  mile,  at  the  maximum. 
The  Union  Pacific  will  keep  to  the  open  country,  and 
do  away  with  curves  as  much  as  possible.  Sharp 
tangents  cut  down  speed.  Lack  of  water  doesn't 
bother  a  railroad,  if  wells  for  tanks  can  be  drilled,  at 

in 


112 


OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 


intervals.  In  fact,  the  fewer  streams  to  cross,  the 
better." 

A  month  had  gone  by  since  from  Sherman  Summit 
they  had  descended  a  thousand  feet  into  the  Laramie 
Plains.  It  had  been  a  continuous  hunting  and  camp- 
ing trip  with  the  Indians  at  safe  distance.  The 
general  had  traveled  by  easy  stints,  to  favor  the  health 
of  General  Rawlins,  and  let  Geologist  Van  Lennep 
make  his  investigation  for  coal  and  ballast.  A  courier 
from  Sanders  had  brought  a  dispatch  saying  that  Mr. 
Evans'  wife  was  ill,  in  the  East,  and  he  had  turned 
back. 

The  Laramie  Plains  had  proved  to  be  a  great  basin 
or  park,  watered  by  trout  streams,  tinted  with  red  soil 
and  rocks,  and  green  brush  and  trees,  broken  by  strange 
buttes  and  spires,  and  surrounded  by  snow-capped 
mountains.  It  stretched  fifty  miles  wide,  and  100 
miles  long,  in  northwesterly  direction.  The  railroad 
line  was  to  follow  it  and  take  advantage  of  such  an 
open  way. 

Several  times  they  had  signs  of  other  parties  —  the 
Browne  surveying  crews,  General  Dodge  pronounced 
them.  Now  and  again  an  abandoned  surveyor's  flag 
fluttered  from  bush  or  pole. 

"  Who'd  'a  thought  when  Jim  Bridger  and  I  trapped 
our  beaver  and  fought  for  our  meat  in  here,  that  the 
iron  hoss'd  be  rampaging  through  before  ever  we  lost 
our  scalps,"  Sol  Judy  mused.  "  That  is,  if  we  don't 
lose  those  same  scalps  in  the  meantime." 

They  followed  down  a  stream  which  emptied  into 
the  Platte,  and  camped  this  night  on  the  banks  of 


MORE  BAD  NEWS  113 

the  North  Platte  itself,  which  flowing  north  from 
Colorado  turned  for  the  east  and  joined  the  South 
Platte  300  miles  away,  at  North  Platte  Station  on  the 
railroad,  in  Nebraska. 

"  And  next  year  at  this  time  the  railroad  will  be 
here,  I  guess,"  Terry  ventured.  "  Wonder  if  the  river 
knows." 

"  It  doesn't  seem  possible,"  Mr.  Corwith  mused. 

"  And  ,in  another  year  the  rails  will  be  climbing 
those  mountains  that  look  like  cloud  banks,"  added 
young  Mr.  Duff. 

"  Your  eye-sight's  improving,  young  man,"  Sol 
joked.  "  You're  spying  the  main  Rockies ;  and  if 
'twarn't  for  those  clouds  I  reckon  you  could  look  an- 
other hundred  and  fifty  miles,  into  Utah." 

Sol  had  been  scouting  around,  and  had  found  traces 
of  a  deserted  camp  down  stream  a  short  distance. 
The  general  was  quite  certain  that  this  had  been  a 
camp  of  the  Percy  Browne  surveyors  and  escort. 

"  Camp's  about  three  weeks  old,  I  judge,"  Sol  re- 
ported. 

"  Hoo-ee-ee !  "  sounded  the  high  call,  through  the 
dusk. 

"  White  man,  that,"  Sol  uttered.  "  Yep,  and  there 
they  are." 

Across  the  Platte  there  were  two  or  three  horse- 
men, who  had  united  in  the  "  Hoo-ee-ee."  Now  here 
they  came,  fording  and  swimming.  General  Dodge 
beckoned  them  in,  and  met  them  as  they  rode  forward, 
dripping. 

He  and  Colonel  Seymour,  the  consulting  engineer, 


ii4          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

held  a  short  confab  with  them.  They  all  turned  for 
the  camp. 

"  That's  Frank  Appleton,  Percy  Browne's  assistant," 
Superintendent  Reed  exclaimed.  "  Wonder  if  any- 
thing's  gone  wrong  again." 

"  Well,  men  don't  swim  cold  rivers  for  nothing," 
drawled  Sol,  who  was  standing  and  warming  the  tails 
of  his  army  overcoat. 

The  General  Dodge  squad  arrived  at  the  big  camp 
fire.  The  general's  face  was  grave;  so  was  Colonel 
Seymour's.  Everybody  at  the  fire  waited  intent  — 
General  Rawlins,  lying  under  a  blanket  to  rest,  half  sat 
up. 

The  newcomers  were  two  surveyors  and  a  cavalry 
trooper.  They  and  their  horses  appeared  worn  to  the 
bones.  The  two  surveyors  dismounted  stiffly,  to  ad- 
vance to  the  fire,  with  a  haggard  smile  and  a  brave 
"  Good  evening."  The  trooper  led  the  horses  aside, 
for  unsaddling  and  picketing  out. 

"  Gentlemen,  permit  me  to  introduce  Mr.  Francis 
Appleton,  and  Mr.  Bane,  of  the  Percy  Browne  party," 
spoke  the  general.  "  Mr.  Appleton  was  the  assistant 
engineer;  now  he  is  in  charge  of  the  party.  He  brings 
word  of  the  loss  of  his  chief.  Percy  Browne,  a  young 
engineer  already  at  the  top  of  his  profession  and  one  of 
my  right-hand  men,  has  been  killed  by  the  Sioux." 

"What!  Another  — and  this  time  Browne!" 
gasped  Mr.  Blickensderfer. 

"  I  sorter  felt  it,"  remarked  Sol. 

"  Where  did  that  happen,  and  how?  "  queried  Gen- 
eral Rawlins. 


MORE  BAD  NEWS  115 

"Can  you  tell  them  about  it,  Frank?"  suggested 
General  Dodge. 

Engineer  Appleton  —  he  was  young,  too  —  sat  down 
and  stretched  his  legs  and  hands  to  the  blaze. 

"  It  happened  about  two  weeks  ago.  We  were  run- 
ning a  line  on  the  main  divide,  near  Separation,  about 
fifty  miles  west  of  here,  or  at  survey  station  6,801, 
when  Mr.  Browne  left  us,  to  reconnoiter  in  the  basin 
country  farther  west.  He'd  found  the  maps  of  the 
region  were  wrong  —  they  did  not  cover  all  that  terri- 
tory, especially  a  new  basin  that  we  call  the  Red  Desert. 
The  Salt  Lake  stage  road  skirts  the  edge  of  it,  on  the 
way  to  the  Bitter  Creek  desert. 

"  Mr.  Browne  took  eight  of  the  cavalry  escort  and 
some  pack  animals.  We  were  to  work  on  a  line  at  the 
east  edge.  It  seems  that  he  had  almost  crossed  the 
Red  Desert,  when  a  band  of  300  Sioux,  who  were 
making  south  to  attack  the  stage  stations,  surrounded 
him  and  his  escort.  The  men  succeeded  in  righting 
their  way  to  a  little  hill,  and  there  they  forted,  and 
held  the  Sioux  off  from  noon  until  after  dark.  Just 
at  dusk  a  ball  had  struck  Mr.  Browne  in  the  stomach, 
and  put  him  out  of  action.  He  knew  he  was  done  for, 
so  he  ordered  the  soldiers  to  leave  him  and  break  for 
safety;  but  they  wouldn't  do  it." 

"What!  Soldiers  leave  their  officer?  Never!" 
rapped  Colonel  Mizner.  "  Not  the  Second  Cavalry 
men  —  nor  any  other  men,  either." 

"  And  they  didn't,"  asserted  Mr.  Appleton.  "  They 
refused  to  obey  Browne's  orders.  They  let  the  Sioux 
stampede  the  horses  and  mules,  which  seemed  to 


n6          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

satisfy  the  red-skins,  who  drew  off.  So  this  same 
night  those  eight  soldiers  made  a  litter  of  a  blanket 
slung  on  carbines,  and  afoot  they  carried  poor  Percy 
fifteen  miles  through  the  sage  brush  and  the  sand  to 
LaClede  stage  station  on  the  Overland.  They  didn't 
save  his  life,  though,  for  he  died  soon  after  they  got 
in  with  him." 

"  A  gallant  deed,"  said  General  Rawlins.  "  I'll  see 
to  it  that  it's  brought  personally  before  General  Grant 
himself.  We  must  have  those  soldiers'  names." 

"  The  news  was  telegraphed  from  the  stage  station 
to  Sanders,"  continued  Mr.  Appleton,  "  but  of  course 
General  Dodge  had  passed  through,  before  that.  The 
soldiers  found  us,  where  we  were  waiting  for  Mr. 
Browne  to  return.  I  went  ahead  running  a  line  accord- 
ing to  the  instructions,  until  my  party  became  pretty 
well  exhausted  through  lack  of  water  and  provisions. 
I  was  coming  in  to  Fort  Sanders,  for  more  supplies 
and  for  further  instructions,  and  sighted  your  fires, 
here.  I  guess  that's  about  all.  The  rest  of  the  party 
are  about  forty  miles  west.  They're  short  of  water, 
and  animals,  and  unable  to  move  forward  —  but  they 
hate  to  quit.  With  a  little  help  we'll  push  right  along, 
as  Mr.  Browne  had  intended,  and  finish  out  the  survey 
according  to  his  plans." 

"  By  Jiminy !  That's  the  stuff!  "  applauded  young 
Mr.  Duff. 

"  Yes,  sir.  The  survey  shall  be  carried  out.  We'll 
enter  the  Browne  basin,"  declared  the  general.  "  We'll 
give  Mr.  Appleton  and  Mr.  Bane  a  day's  rest  here, 
while  I  check  over  with  them.  Unfortunately  all  of 


MORE  BAD  NEWS  117 

Mr.  Browne's  notes  were  lost  when  the  Indians  at- 
tacked him.  But  we'll  march  on,  to  the  Appleton 
party  ahead,  fix  them  up,  and  proceed  to  find  the 
Bates  party,  too.  Nothing  has  been  seen  of  them, 
Mr.  Appleton  says.'* 

The  North  Platte  flowed  through  a  wide  and  shallow 
valley  of  sage  brush  and  reddish  gravel,  blotched  by 
bright  green  cottonwoods  and  willows,  with  a  scatter- 
ing of  small  pines  and  cedars  on  the  slopes.  The 
river  had  to  be  forded;  but  the  wagons  were  tugged 
through,  and  they  all  toiled  up  the  west  slope  to  the 
top  of  a  broad  plateau. 

"  The  beginning  of  the  Bitter  Creek  plains,"  General 
Dodge  uttered.  "  Any  streams  in  here,  Frank  ?  " 

"  We  discovered  none,  sir,"  Mr.  Appleton  answered. 
"  That  is,  none  now  flowing.  There  are  numerous  dry 
courses." 

The  high  plateau  stretched  onward  into  the  west. 
It  was  of  reddish  gravel,  plentifully  cloaked  with  sage, 
like  the  rolling  swells  of  a  mighty  grayish  sea,  and  now 
and  again  blotched  with  the  white  of  alkali,  like  the 
patchy  froth  of  a  sea.  Sharp  buttes,  like  islands,  rose 
in  the  distances  around,  breaking  the  surface.  Alto- 
gether, it  was  a  lonely  sight. 

"  How  far  are  your  party,  Frank  ?  " 

"  We'll  reach  them  tomorrow,  sir.  There's  a  plain 
trail  —  my  own  trail,  and  the  lines  we  ran." 

The  party  were  all  right,  and  waiting  patiently  for 
water  and  horses.  The  general  decided  to  send  them 
back  to  the  North  Platte,  to  rest  and  refit  from  Fort 
Sanders;  but  he  took  Mr.  Appleton,  as  a  guide  to  the 


n8          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

great  basin  which  Mr.   Percy  Browne  had  entered. 

He  and  General  Rawlins  and  Mr.  Appleton  led,  with 
Terry  and  Sol  Judy  close  behind;  the  rest  of  the  party 
followed;  the  wagon  train  labored  in  the  rear,  while 
the  cavalry  bobbed  up  and  down  on  either  flank,  riding 
dusty  and  sunburned,  but  watchful  for  Indians. 

Indeed,  dusty  and  sunburned  were  all:  the  once 
smooth  faces  of  Major  Dunn  and  Mr.  Duff  had 
sprouted  beards,  Terry's  face  was  parched  and  rough- 
ened, and  everybody  had  the  appearance  of  old  cam- 
paigners. 

It  was  hard  on  General  Rawlins.  The  water  in 
the  casks  had  been  divided  with  the  survey  party ;  that 
in  the  canteens  was  warm;  and  General  Dodge  had 
ordered  that  the  casks  and  the  canteens  be  tapped  just 
as  seldom  as  possible. 

"  I'd  give  my  commission  for  a  drink  of  good 
water,"  suddenly  spoke  General  Rawlins.  "  But  I 
don't  suppose  there  is  such  a  thing." 

"  You  shall  have  it,  general,"  answered  General 
Dodge.  "If  you're  able,  we'll  ride  ahead  of  the  main 
party  and  see  what  we  can  find.  Mr.  Appleton  and 
Sol  can  bring  them  on."  He  turned  in  his  saddle  and 
swept  the  group  with  keen  eye.  "  Who's  with  us  ? 
You'll  want  your  aide,  of  course.  All  right,  Major 
Dunn.  Then  I'll  take  my  own  aide.  Come  along, 
Terry.  Gentlemen,  we'll  have  fresh  water  waiting  for 
you,  when  you  catch  us." 

Weaving  among  the  outcrops  of  red  and  gray  rock, 
and  the  clumps  of  silent  sage,  while  the  gravel  crunched 
under  hoof  and  the  sun  beat  hotly  above,  they  four 


MORE  BAD  NEWS  119 

rode  for  an  hour,  leaving  the  cavalry  and  wagon  train 
farther  and  farther  behind.  Every  draw  was  dry. 
General  Rawlins  began  to  droop  in  his  seat.  He  was 
not  strong  —  had  consumption ;  but  he  was  plucky, 
for  he  was  a  soldier. 

"  I  think  we'll  do  better  to  spread  out,"  General 
Dodge  finally  directed.  "  Four  abreast.  But  each  of 
us  must  halt  on  the  top  of  every  ridge -and  swell,  until 
the  others  are  in  sight.  We  can't  exercise  too  much 
care,  in  this  kind  of  a  country." 

They  rode  for  still  an  hour,  into  the  west.  The 
Browne  survey  had  been  through  here  —  Terry  him- 
self saw  the  trails,  here  and  there,  and  the  flags  and 
stakes;  but  pretty  soon  he  lost  them.  His  course, 
on  the  right  of  the  searching  line,  took  him  where 
the  only  traces  of  life  were  the  jack-rabbits. 

Then,  dipping  down  into  another  of  the  gravelly 
draws,  he  noticed  a  narrow  trail  swinging  through  the 
middle  of  it.  His  tired  horse  pricked  its  ears,  and 
quickened  its  pace.  A  coyote  trail,  this  —  yes,  marked 
by  antelope  hoofs,  too;  evidently  going  somewhere. 
An  antelope  trail  usually  led  to  water,  if  followed  far 
enough.  If  the  water  happened  to  be  near  —  then, 
hurrah!  It  would  be  great  luck  for  a  boy  to  find 
water  when  General  Dodge,  the  explorer,  and  General 
Rawlins,  chief-of-staff  of  the  United  States  Army,  both 
were  looking  for  it.  So  Terry  hopefully  pressed  for- 
ward, in  the  narrow  antelope  trail. 

The  draw  turned  a  rocky  shoulder;  a  couple  of 
coyotes  lifted  their  sharp  noses,  and  were  away  like 
tawny  shadows;  Terry's  horse  eagerly  nickered;  and 


120          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

here,  near  before,  there  was  a  spot  of  green  in  the 
desert  dun. 

A  spring,  sure  enough! 

Terry  hauled  his  horse  about  — "  General  Rawlins 
first,  old  fellow.  But  you'll  get  some  " —  and  forced 
him  up  the  side  of  the  draw,  to  spread  the  good  word. 

One  after  another  the  men  saw  him,  and  in  they 
came,  answering  his  signals.  General  Dodge  was 
nearest. 

"What  is  it?     Water?" 

"  Yes,  sir.     We  found  a  spring." 

"Good!     Where?" 

"  Straight  down  in  this  draw,  sir." 

"Sweet  water?     Did  you  taste  it?" 

"  No,  sir ;  I  didn't  taste  it,  but  it  looks  sweet.  The 
coyotes  and  antelope  have  been  drinking  it." 

"  Rawlins !  "  shouted  the  general.  "  Come  along. 
Here's  water." 

General  Rawlins  came.  So  did  Major  Dunn.  Fol- 
lowing Terry,  in  they  went. 

"  General  Rawlins  is  entitled  to  the  first  drink,  I 
believe,"  said  General  Dodge,  huskily,  as  they  reined 
their  horses  around  the  little  spring. 

"  You  fellows  are  as  thirsty  as  I  am.  Who  found 
it?  This  boy?  Then  the  finder  is  entitled  to  the  first 
drink." 

"  He's  declined.  Drink,  man,  or  it's  liable  to  dis- 
appear." 

They  gravely  watched  General  Rawlins  throw  him- 
self down  and  quaff. 

"  Whew !  "  he  gasped,  pausing.  "It's  a  miracle  — 
cold  and  sweet." 


MORE  BAD  NEWS  121 

They  all  drank  —  General  Dodge,  Major  Dunn,  and 
Terry  last ;  they  let  the  horses  drink. 

"  I  told  you  that  a  boy  would  be  handy  to  have  in 
camp  and  on  the  march,  general,"  slyly  reminded  Gen- 
eral Dodge. 

"  I  feel  as  though  he  had  saved  my  life,"  and  Gen- 
eral Rawlins  smiled.  "  This  water  is  the  most 
gracious  thing  of  the  whole  march,  to  date.  There's 
nothing  that  takes  the  place  of  sweet  water,  when  a 
man  is  thirsty.  If  my  name  is  ever  placed  upon  a  map, 
I  hope  that  it  will  be  applied  to  a  spring." 

"  Your  wish  is  granted  at  once,  general,"  laughed 
General  Dodge.  "  Here  is  the  spot,  and  I  name  it 
Rawlins  Springs.  The  line  of  the  railroad  will  run 
very  close  to  it,  I  think  —  we're  about  the  right  dis- 
tance for  a  townsite.  Within  a  year  there'll  be  a 
Rawlins  Springs  town  here." 

"  Well,  if  the  town's  anything  like  Julesburg,  they'll 
be  drinking  other  fluids  than  water,  I'm  afraid,"  Gen- 
eral Rawlins  smiled. 

The  cavalry  and  wagon  train  were  signaled  in,  and 
camp  was  made  at  Rawlins  Springs,  near  where  to- 
day is  situated  the  city  of  Rawlins,  Wyoming,  on  the 
first  of  the  railroads  across  continent. 

"  Now,  if  you're  only  lucky  enough  to  find  the 

Bates  party,  and  your  friend  George  Stanton !  " 

young  Mr.  Duff  proposed,  this  evening,  to  Terry. 

That  was  so.  Sol  Judy  and  Mr.  Appleton  declared 
that  the  country  on  ahead  was  much  worse.  George 
was  somewhere  in  it  —  and  Terry  began  to  worry  a 
little. 


CHAPTER  X 


A   MEETING   IN    THE   DESERT 

"  THE  roof  of  the  continent,  gentlemen." 

It  was  the  second  day  after  leaving  Rawlins  Springs. 
Mr.  Blickensderfer,  the  government  representative; 
Mr.  Carter,  the  director;  Colonel  Seymour,  the  rail- 
road expert,  General  Casement  and  Superintendent 
Reed  had  turned  back  yesterday,  for  the  Black  Hills 
again.  They  had  taken  an  escort  and  a  couple  of 
wagons.  So  now  the  party  were  formed  of  only  Gen- 
eral Dodge,  General  Rawlins,  Geologist  Van  Lennep, 
Mr.  Corwith,  young  Mr.  Duff,  Engineer  Appleton,  Sol 
Judy  and  Terry,  accompanied  by  Colonel  Mizner, 
Lieutenant  Wheelan,  Surgeon  Terry  and  the  cavalry 
and  teamsters. 

From  Rawlins  Springs  on  across  the  high  plateau 
there  had  been  a  gradual  steady  climb,  according  to  the 
general;  until  here,  this  late  afternoon,  he  made  the 
startling  announcement : 

"  The  roof  of  the  continent,  gentlemen." 

"  You  mean  this  is  the  ridge  dividing  the  waters 
that  flow  east  from  the  waters  that  flow  west  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  The  Continental  Divide,  formed  by  the 
Rocky  Mountains." 

"  Well,  it  doesn't  look  it,"  complained  young  Mr. 
Duff.  "  It's  too  flat.  I  expected  to  see  more  of  a 
ridge.  This  is  nothing  but  a  long  hump.  Are  we 

122 


A  MEETING  IN  THE  DESERT         123 

higher  than  Sherman  Summit  of  the  Black  Hills?'* 

"  No.  Sherman  Summit,  at  8,250  feet,  is  the  high- 
est point  on  the  proposed  line.  The  main  divide,  here, 
is  scarcely  more  than  7,000.  That  is  one  beauty  of 
the  survey  as  run  by  Mr.  Browne  before  his  death. 
We  cross  the  Continental  Divide  at  its  lowest  point, 
by  an  easy  grade.  South  in  Colorado  we  would  have 
to  cross  at  12,000  feet;  and  north  we  would  have  to 
cross  at  9,000  feet." 

"  Speaking  of  ridge-poles,  young  man,"  Sol  put  in, 
"  you  cast  yore  eye  'round  and  you'll  see  where  the 
ridge-poles  were  used.  But  once  in  a  while  the  build- 
ers of  this  roof  had  to  make  a  spot  to  sit  down  on." 

And  truly,  the  view  from  this  immense  "  hump  " 
was  superb.  Far  in  north  and  south  and  west  up- 
lifted the  jagged  snowy  ranges  —  the  real  mountains 
of  Colorado,  Wyoming  and  Utah,  with  this  great  bare 
plateau  stretching  between  like  a  broad  trough.  Be- 
hind, or  east,  they  could  look  back  upon  the  Laramie 
Plains,  shimmering  below. 

"  Mr.  Appleton  says  that  tomorrow  morning  we'll 
sight  the  Percy  Browne  basin  of  the  Red  Desert,"  Mr. 
Corwith  remarked,  after  supper,  in  camp. 

"How  far  ahead?" 

"  As  soon  as  we  cross  this  divide.  Then  we  drop 
right  into  it." 

General  Dodge  had  been  correct.  Within  a  few 
miles  from  camp,  in  the  morning,  they  were  going 
down  hill.  The  Laramie  Plains  were  cut  off,  so  was 
much  of  the  plateau  itself,  but  the  mountains  before, 
and  hazy  in  the  distance,  rose  more  and  more,  with  a 


124 


OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 


flat  desert  gradually  creeping  out  from  their  base. 
After  all,  the  "  hump  "  was  a  rounded  ridge  —  a  sort 
of  welt. 

It  fell  away,  with  a  long  slant  —  and  suddenly  the 
party  halted  short,  craning  forward,  almost  speech- 
less, to  the  pointing  arm  of  General  Dodge. 

"  The  unknown  land,"  he  uttered.  "  The  Browne 
basin,  and  the  Red  Desert." 

"  Where  poor  Percy  gave  up  his  life,"  added  Engi- 
neer Appleton. 

"  Yes,  and  where  many  another  good  man  has  ended 
his  trail,"  added  Sol  Judy. 

From  the  foot  of  the  slant,  onward  below  there 
extended,  now  fully  revealed,  so  vast  a  basin  that  it 
might  have  been  the  floor  of  a  dry  ocean.  They  were 
gazing  down  into  it,  as  if  from  the  side  of  an  amphi- 
theater. Lofty  mountains,  some  of  them  a  hundred 
miles  away,  surrounded  it  with  a  fringe  of  cloudlike 
crests.  The  clear  air  rested  upon  it  and  gave  it  a 
setting  of  crystal. 

There  were  abrupt  little  cone-like  peaks,  patches  of 
white,  patches  of  red,  patches  of  dark  brush;  and  over 
all  a  wondrous  blue  sky  without  a  break,  through  which 
the  hot  sun  rode  high. 

The  basin  looked  enchanted  and  mysterious. 

"  The  unknown  land,"  repeated  General  Dodge, 
thoughtfully.  "  The  Overland  Stage  road  crosses,  for 
the  Bitter  Creek  country,  beyond.  But  there  are  no 
other  trails.  There  may  be  no  streams,  either.  Those 
white  patches  are  soda  and  alkali,  of  course.  The  red 
is  granite  and  sandstone  —  good  ballast  stuff  for  a 


A  MEETING  IN  THE  DESERT         125 

roadbed.  Lacking  any  streams  flowing  west,  we'll 
have  to  travel  by  compass,  and  save  our  water  as  much 
as  we  can.  But  we'll  go  in;  see  what  Percy  found, 
and  maybe  find  Bates." 

"So  that's  where  your  friend  is,  is  it?"  inquired 
Mr.  Duff,  of  Terry. 

"  Yes,  sir,  he's  liable  to  be.     But  I  hope  he  isn't." 

"  So  do  I,"  agreed  Mr.  Duff.  "  That  country  cer- 
tainly spells  Desolation  with  a  capital  '  D.' ' 

"  I  told  you  before  that  a  jack-rabbit  always  makes 
his  will  and  kisses  his  family  good-by,  when  he  starts 
in  from  the  edge  of  that  country/'  reminded  Sol. 

"  Do  you  expect  to  build  a  railroad  right  through, 
general  ? "  queried  General  Rawlins.  "  No  easier 
route?" 

"  None  that's  short  and  of  the  proper  grades.  The 
mountains  block  us  off,  north  and  south.  This  is  the 
natural  highway  for  the  rails,  I  think.  The  Central 
Pacific  will  have  just  as  bad  a  desert,  in  western 
Nevada,  until  we  meet  them.  If  we  can  bring  up  our 
water  from  behind,  while  we're  building,  we'll  put 
the  rails  across,  and  sink  wells  to  supply  the  engines 
and  stations.  I'll  be  glad  to  find  that  the  Percy 
Browne  surveys  are  the  best  for  the  railroad.  The 
iron  track  through,  by  the  trail  that  he  discovered,  will 
be  an  eternal  monument  to  his  memory." 

Down  they  all  went,  into  the  basin.  It  was  rougher 
and  even  larger  than  it  had  seemed  from  above.  There 
were  many  bare  red-rock  ridges,  cutting  the  surface 
—  many  smaller  basins  between,  white  with  alkali  and 
nasty  scum ;  many  strange  pedestals  and  figures  carved 


126          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

by  wind  and  sand;  but  no  water  except  in  poisonous 
stagnant  pools. 

It  was  no  place  for  George  Stanton,  or  any  other 
human  being. 

This  first  evening  they  made  dry  camp.  The  rocks 
and  gravel  were  growing  redder;  and  where  after 
storms  the  water  had  soaked  into  the  soil  it  left  red 
washes  of  caked  mud.  A  weird,  glowing  landscape 
this  was,  as  if  blasted  by  a  wizard's  spell. 

In  the  morning  the  general,  Engineer  Appleton  and 
Sol  rode  to  the  top  of  a  rock  rise,  to  survey  around. 
The  general  peered  long  through  his  glasses  —  handed 
them  to  Mr.  Appleton,  and  Mr.  Appleton  peered.  Sol 
squinted. 

They  turned  their  horses  and  came  in  at  a  gallop. 

"  Injun  sign  out  yonder,"  cried  Sol. 

"  Colonel !  Oh,  Colonel  Mizner !  "  summoned  the 
general.  "  We've  sighted  what  may  likely  be  a  party 
of  Indians,  on  before.  Whether  they've  seen  our 
camp  smoke,  I  can't  tell.  We'll  go  ahead,  of  course; 
and  if  you'll  kindly  make  arrangements  accordingly, 
we  may  wipe  out  a  few  scores.  I'm  sure  we've  got 
a  good  fight  in  us." 

"  I  only  hope  they'll  give  us  a  chance  to  show  it," 
answered  the  colonel.  And  — "  My  compliments  to 
Lieutenant  Wheelan,  and  tell  him  I'd  like  to  speak 
with  him,"  he  said,  to  his  orderly. 

Away  ran  the  orderly.  Lieutenant  Wheelan  was 
delighted  —  "  It's  been  a  long  trip  without  a  scrim- 
mage. The  men  are  famished  for  a  brush  or  two," 
he  cheered. 


A  MEETING  IN  THE  DESERT         127 

With  wagon  train  closed  up,  guarded  well,  and  with 
cavalry  riding  the  flanks  in  compact  lines,  the  march 
proceeded.  Sol,  the  colonel,  and  General  Dodge  and 
General  Rawlins  held  the  advance. 

"  How  far  are  those  beggars,  I  wonder,"  said  young 
Mr.  Duff.  "  Bet  they'll  run  away." 

"  Only  ten  miles,  but  the  glasses  could  scarcely  pick 
them  out,  among  the  rocks,"  replied  Mr.  Appleton. 

"  The  general  sees  'em  again !  " 

The  advance  had  halted,  to  scan  with  the  glasses. 
Sol  galloped  back. 

"  They  aren't  Injuns.  They're  white  men,  and  act 
like  they're  in  trouble.  They're  afoot  an'  leading 
hosses.  Fetch  on  yore  water,  for  we'll  probably  need 
it." 

"  There's  the  Bates  party,  I'll  wager,"  rapped  Mr. 
Corwith;  and  all  dashed  forward. 

General  Dodge  and  Major  Dunn  had  forged  ahead, 
but  Terry,  wild  with  fears,  pelted  close  after.  The 
horses'  hoofs  rang  on  the  rocks,  and  thudded  in  the 
reddish  sand  and  gravel. 

The  slowly  toiling  figures  were  down,  flat,  as  if 
exhausted;  one  struggled  to  get  up,  staggered  blindly, 
and  fell  again.  The  general  arrived  first,  was  off  his 
horse  in  a  jiffy,  to  kneel  and  raise  the  figure  against 
him.  He  quickly  unsnapped  his  canteen,  and  poured 
from  it  and  dabbled  with  his  handkerchief. 

"  To  the  next,  major,"  he  ordered.  "  I'll  take  care 
of  this  one." 

But  with  a  cry  Terry  stopped  short,  and  tumbled 
off.  The  figure  against  the  general's  knees  was  George 
Stanton ! 


128  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

Yes,  George  Stanton  —  and  his  own  mother 
scarcely  would  have  recognized  him.  However,  Terry 
knew  George;  a  fellow  learns  not  to  be  mistaken  in 
his  brother  or  his  chum. 

"  That's  George  Stanton,  general ! "  he  gasped. 
"  That's  my  pardner  —  the  boy  I've  talked  about.  Is 
he  dead  ?  George !  Hello,  George !  " 

"  No,  not  dead ;  but  pretty  near  gone,  from  thirst. 
This  must  be  the  Bates  party,  then.  You  tend  to  him 
—  keep  his  face  and  mouth  wet,  but  don't  give  him 
too  much  water,  at  once.  He'll  be  all  right,  soon.  I'll 
pass  along  to  the  others." 

Terry  took  charge  —  holding  George  tenderly, 
shoulders  up,  off  the  hard  rock  and  hot  sand,  and  sop- 
ping his  face  and  dribbling  into  his  half  open  mouth. 

Once,  George  had  been  a  wiry,  snappy,  black-eyed 
package  of  nerve;  now  he  was  wasted  to  a  framework 
of  bones,  his  skin  was  drawn  tight  and  parched,  his 
lips  were  shrunken  apart  and  his  tongue,  black  and 
stiff,  almost  filled  the  space  between. 

"George!"  Terry  repeated.  "You're  all  right. 
We've  found  you.  I'm  Terry  —  I'm  your  old  pard 
Terry.  Swallow  this  water.  There's  plenty  more." 

The  rest  of  the  advance  party  had  passed  along, 
to  administer  first  aid.  The  surgeon  and  some  of  the 
cavalry  arrived. 

Doctor  Terry,  the  army  surgeon,  paused  an  instant, 
beside  "  Doctor  "  Terry  the  amateur,  for  a  swift  sur- 
vey. 

"Keep  up  the  work,  boy.  He'll  be  all  right  — 
he's  coming  'round."  He  laid  finger  on  George's 


A  MEETING  IN  THE  DESERT          129 

withered  wrist,  for  the  pulse.  "  Good !  Pulse  regu- 
lar. Wet  his  wrists,  occasionally.  Who  is  he? 
Know  him  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir.  He's  George  Stanton  —  the  other  boy 
I  was  looking  for." 

"  Great  Scott !  That's  luck,  sure."  And  on  passed 
the  doctor. 

George's  eyeballs  rolled,  his  lids  fluttered,  and  he 
groaned.  He  clutched  for  the  canteen. 

"  Not  yet,  old  fellow.  I'm  tending  to  you.  Too 
much  at  once  might  make  you  sick." 

George  stared  up,  vacantly ;  then  he  actually  grinned, 
as  his  head  swayed. 

"  Where  you  come  from  ?  "  he  asked,  thickly. 

"  Oh,  just  riding  through,  looking  for  you.  You're 
found." 

"  Water.  More.  Darn  it,  lemme  drink,"  com- 
plained George.  That  was  exactly  like  him  —  peppery 
and  obstinate. 

Beyond,  the  General  Dodge  squad  and  the  soldiers 
were  working  over  other  members  of  the  survey  party, 
who  had  been  scattered  in  a  straggled  line  across  the 
desert.  George  wriggled  and  groaned  more  and  more, 
and  suddenly  sat  up,  of  himself. 

"  Why  don't  you  let  me  drink  ?  "  he  scolded. 

"  You  have  been  drinking,  George." 

"  It  never  got  down.     It  soaked  in  part  way." 

"  I'll  ask  the  doctor." 

Surgeon  Terry  was  coming  back,  on  a  tour  of  in- 
spection. 

"  Aha !     How's  the  boy  now  ?  " 


130          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

"  He  wants  to  drink." 

"  Ten  swallows.  And  in  five  minutes  another  ten 
swallows.  Will  that  suit?  " 

George  nodded  and  eagerly  reached  for  the  canteen. 

"  I'll  count,  and  at  ten  you  quit,"  Terry  instructed. 

He  grabbed  the  canteen  from  George's  lips  at  the 
eleventh  swallow,  and  George  grudgingly  yielded. 

"Where's  Mr.  Bates?  Did  you  find  Mr.  Bates?" 
he  asked,  still  a  bit  thickly.  "And  my  dad?" 

"  Yes.  They're  coming  'round.  They've  asked 
after  you,  too.  You're  all  going  to  be  all  right. 
Tongue  more  limber,  eh  ?  What  happened  to  you  fel- 
lows? Get  lost?" 

"  I  guess  so,"  George  confessed.  "  Trying  to  run 
a  line  across  —  for  railroad  —  no  water  —  no  water  't 

all  — three  days  —  awful  dry "  and  his  voice  fell 

off.  "Don't  I  get  'nother  drink?"  he  wailed. 

"  Let  him  have  it,"  bade  the  doctor,  and  turned  back. 

It  was  the  grandest  thing  in  the  world  to  watch 
George  drink,  and  drink,  and  swell  with  the  moisture, 
and  grow  stronger. 

"  Whew !  "  he  sighed,  rubbing  his  eyes.  "  I  was 
like  an  old  buffalo  carcass  lying  out  for  a  year  or  two. 
Nothing  but  hide  and  bones.  Now  I'm  loosening  up. 
Golly,  but  I'm  glad  to  see  you.  We  all  thought  we 
were  goners,  except  Mr.  Bates.  He  said  we'd  get 
through,  but  he  was  worse  off  than  any  of  us.  I  was 
sorry  for  dad.  Wish  I  could  see  'em.  How  far's 
the  railroad  in  ?  " 

"  It's  past  Julesburg." 

"Old  Julesburg?" 


A  MEETING  IN  THE  DESERT         131 

'  Yes,  but  we  made  another  Julesburg,  north  of  the 
river.  It's  a  '  roaring  town/  too.  You  ought  to  see 
it.  Toughest  town  yet." 

"  Thought  you  were  hauling  rails." 

"  So  I  was.  But  I  came  on  with  General  Dodge, 
exploring  and  to  fight  Injuns  —  and  to  find  you  fel- 
lows. He  invited  me  because  —  well,  just  because. 
He  says  he'll  open  the  way.  We've  got  two  com- 
panies of  cavalry  and  Sol  Judy." 

"  Sol?     Say,  I  want  to  see  Sol.     Had  any  fights?  " 

"  One  big  one,  when  we  were  laying  rails  between 
North  Platte  and  Julesburg.  They  didn't  get  us, 
though.  And  we  had  another  at  Plum  Creek,  only 
it  wasn't  a  fight;  it  was  plain  massacre." 

"  What  were  you  doing  down  there  ?  " 

"  I'd  gone  for  a  ride  on  the  road,  in  a  special  train. 
Got  as  far  as  Kearney,  and  who  do  you  think  I 
found?  Harry!  He's  lightning-shooter  there.  Sol 
stopped  off.  Then  I  started  back  on  a  handcar  with 
some  linemen.  And  this  side  of  Plum  Creek  the 
Cheyennes  wrecked  us  in  the  dark.  They  just  slung 
us  every  which- way,  and  killed  three  of  the  men  and 
scalped  Bill  Thompson  (he  was  head  lineman),  and 
corralled  him  and  Shep  and  me  —  and  then  one  of  'em 
killed  Shep  in  a  hand-to-hand  fight  when  Shep  was 
protecting  us." 

"  Oh,  the  dickens !  "  George  mourned.  "  I'm  awful 
sorry  about  Shep.  Did  you  get  the  Injun?"  That 
also  was  just  like  the  spunky  George ! 

"  Naw.  How  could  I  ?  They'd  wrecked  a  train, 
too  —  a  freight.  We  had  to  lie  and  watch  'em  do  it. 


132          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

Then  the  soldiers  from  McPherson  came  down  and  the 
Injuns  skipped.  But  Sol  Judy  and  a  soldier  and  I 
buried  old  Shep.  We  saved  his  scalp,  anyway;  and 
his  motto  is :  '  Killed  in  action.' ' 

:<  You  surely  have  a  lot  to  tell  me,"  George  asserted. 
"  Seems  as  though  you've  been  having  most  of  the 
fun  and  hard  work  both.  How's  your  father?  " 

"  He's  fine.  He's  running  1 19,  and  I'm  running 
Jenny,  when  I'm  there." 

"  How  many  miles  of  track  have  you  laid?  A  hun- 
dred?" 

"  I  left  the  job  at  Julesburg,  to  come  on  this  trip. 
We'd  laid  only  about  ninety  miles,  account  of  storms 
and  Injuns.  Reckon  by  now  they've  laid  a  hundred 
more.  The  rails'll  be  on  top  the  Black  Hills  pass, 
by  fall  —  maybe  down  to  Fort  Sanders,  before  winter, 
the  general  says." 

"  That's  certainly  hustling,"  George  praised.  "  I'd 
like  to  be  there  and  help,  for  a  spell.  All  I've  done 
is  to  drive  stakes  and  carry  chain.  You've  had  the 
big  end."  This  sounded  queer,  when  he'd  been  out 
here  in  the  desert  and  had  nearly  died.  "  We'll  beat 
the  Central  Pacific,  won't  we?  If  only  we  get  across 
this  desert " 

"  Aw,  we  will,"  Terry  asserted.  "  Nothing  can 
stop  us.  And  over  the  mountains  and  into  Salt  Lake, 
and  keep  going.  The  Irish'll  beat  the  Chinks." 

"  Guess  so  f  But  we've  the  long  way.  We'll  have 
to  lay  two  miles  of  track  to  their  one." 

"Shucks!  The  U.  P.  track  and  grading  gangs 
work  like  soldiers,"  Terry  scoffed.  "  They're  on  their 


A  MEETING  IN  THE  DESERT         133 

toes,  and  they've  got  system.  We'll  finish  up,  this 
year,  500  miles  from  Omaha;  then  we'll  have  only 
about  500  more  to  Salt  Lake.  We'll  get  there  by 
1870,  sure.  Five  hundred  miles  in  two  years  is  noth- 
ing, to  the  U.  P.  gangs.  Did  you  fellows  have  any 
Injun  trouble?'" 

"  Not  much.  Mainly  water  trouble.  The  last 
water  we  found  was  poison  —  made  us  awful  sick; 
and  Mr.  Bates  has  been  trying  to  run  by  compass 
straight  east,  out  of  here,  before  we  all  died  on  him. 
We've  lost  a  pile  of  horses  and  mules;  but  we've  got 
one  wagon,  still,  somewhere  behind.  If  any  Injuns 
had  come,  they'd  have  had  an  easy  time." 

"  That's  so,"  Terry  admitted.  "  The  Sioux  wiped 
out  Percy  Browne.  Did  you  hear  ?  " 

"No!     Aw,  thunder!" 

"  Yes.  Three  hundred  of  'em  corralled  him  and 
eight  soldiers,  in  this  same  basin.  They  shot  him, 
and  the  soldiers  carried  him  clear  to  LaClede  stage 
station,  but  he  died.  Mr.  Appleton,  his  assistant,  is 
with  us  now.  We  met  him  back  at  the  North 
Platte." 

"  Well,  I  reckon  we're  lucky,"  sighed  George. 
"  We  did  hate  to  quit  the  survey,  though.  Come  on. 
I  want  to  see  dad  and  Mr.  Bates  and  Sol  Judy." 

The  General  Dodge  squad  and  the  soldiers  were 
collecting  the  Bates  men  into  a  central  spot,  for  noon 
camp.  The  few  horses  and  mules  had  been  given 
bucket fuls  of  water,  and  had  perked  up.  Terry  lent 
George  an  arm,  and  they  went  in,  themselves. 

George's  father  was  sitting  up,  wan  and  weak  but 
getting  O.  K. 


134          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

"  Hello,  dad.  I'm  'round  before  you  are,"  George 
challenged,  gaily. 

"  So  I  see,"  Mr.  Stanton  retorted.  "  But  you're 
smaller.  It  doesn't  take  so  much  water  to  fill  you. 
How  are  you,  Terry?  Think  you'd  like  a  survey 
job,  eh?" 

"  I  dunno,"  Terry  confessed.  "  Tisn't  all  a  picnic, 
I  guess." 

"  I  told  you  about  the  jack-rabbit  and  his  canteen, 
didn't  I?"  reminded  Sol  Judy,  as  he  shook  hands 
heartily  with  George. 

Mr.  Bates  —  Thomas  F.  Bates,  called  "  Tom  "  by 
those  who  knew  him  —  was  not  only  the  chief  of 
the  party  but  also  head  engineer  of  the  whole  Pacific 
Division  of  the  company.  He  had  recovered  enough 
to  talk. 

"  By  what  you've  seen  of  the  Bates  party,  and  by 
what  you've  heard  and  seen  of  the  Browne  party,  you 
all  will  appreciate  the  stuff  that  our  engineer  corps 
is  composed  of,  gentlemen,"  General  Dodge  was 
proudly  saying.  "  Yes,  and  some  of  the  difficulties 
connected  with  these  advance  surveys.  Winter  and 
summer  the  men  are  out,  and  they  never  know  from 
day  to  day  what  is  before  them.  But  I've  yet  to 
learn  of  a  coward  among  them,  from  the  chief  down 
to  the  greenest  stake-driver.  What  are  your  plans 
now,  Tom  ?  " 

"  I  mean  to  check  up,  sir,  and  revise  my  notes ;  and 
then  if  you'll  lend  us  a  little  water  we'll  run  our  lines." 

"  Your  year's  work  is  done,  if  you  say  so,"  offered 
the  general.  "  You  ought  to  take  a  rest.  You'd  better 
go  on  into  Fort  Sanders,  to  check  your  notes." 


A  MEETING  IN  THE  DESERT         135 

"  No,  sir."  And  Engineer  Bates  smiled  out  of  a 
haggard  face.  "  It's  early  in  the  season.  I'll  have 
to  travel  light,  but  I  want  to  run  our  lines.  I'll  have 
plenty  more  checking  over  to  do,  this  winter." 

The  general's  eyes  flashed,  but  he  pondered. 

"  All  right.  Just  as  you  say,  Tom.  I'll  give  you 
a  wagon  or  two,  and  a  small  escort  —  eh,  colonel  ?  " 

"  By  all  means,  sir,"  nodded  Colonel  Mizner. 

"  But  you'd  better  cut  down  your  force,  Tom." 

"  How  much,  general?  " 

'  This  boy  George  is  too  young  for  another  spell 
of  desert  work.  He  ought  to  go  out,  for  a  rest,  and 
then  on  to  the  railroad.  I'll  send  some  dispatches 
back,  for  General  Casement." 

"  Aw !  "  George  blurted.     "  Please  let  me  stay. 

I'm  all  right.     I-        '  and  with  a  burst  of  tears  he 
collapsed  in  Terry's  arms,  as  they  sat. 

"  Humph !  Fainted,"  murmured  Doctor  Terry,  the 
army  surgeon,  sprinting  for  him.  "  It's  nothing 
serious,"  he  reported,  feeling  George's  pulse,  and  then 
working  over  him.  "  Weakness.  I  like  his  spunk." 

"  So  do  I,"  General  Dodge  declared.  "  But  you 
all  can  see  that  he  ought  to  go.  Can  you  spare  him, 
Tom?" 

"  He's  as  good  as  any  man  in  my  outfit,  general. 
And  he's  no  quitter.  He  won't  go  unless  he's  ordered. 
What  do  you  say,  Stanton?  You're  his  father." 

Mr.  Stanton  shook  his  head. 

"  That  makes  no  difference,  sir.  He's  a  member 
of  the  party.  I  ask  no  favors  for  him.  You're  his 
chief.  He's  stuck  it  out  so  far  and  acted  like  a  man. 


136 


OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 


But  I  don't  deny  that  I'd  feel  easier,  myself,  if  he  was 
at  work  somewhere  else,  for  a  change." 

"  I'll  order  him,"  spoke  the  general,  briskly.  "  I'll 
re-assign  him.  And  the  dispatches  must  go."  His 
eyes  wandered  musingly  over  his  company. 

At  George's  wail  of  disappointment,  and  his  col- 
lapse, Terry's  heart  had  risen  chokingly.  With  sud- 
den impulse  he  stood  up  and  saluted. 

"  I'll  take  them  and  go  with  George,  sir,  if  you 
please.  He  —  we  sort  of  hang  together,  and  he'd  feel 
better  about  it,  to  have  me  along." 

"Good!" 

"  I  don't  want  to  quit.  'Tisn't  that,  sir,"  Terry  ex- 
plained anxiously.  "  Only  —  I  guess  you  can  get  on 
without  me,  and  I've  had  a  splendid  time,  and  now  I 
can  help  George  and  be  back  to  lay  some  more  rails,  to 
the  Black  Hills." 

"  You're  a  brick,  by  Jiminy !  "  exclaimed  young  Mr. 
Duff.  "Wish  I  had  a  pardner  like  you.  Don't 
know  whether  we  can  get  along  without  you,  or  not." 

"  Soldier's  orders,  on  special  duty  as  dispatch  bearer 

—  that  will  free  you  of  any  suspicion  of  '  quitting,' 
my  boy,"  said  General  Rawlins.     "  That's  the  under- 
standing, general ?  " 

"  Detached  service,  of  course.  But  he'll  not  miss 
much,  except  discomfort.  The  best  part  of  the  trip 
lies  behind  us,  unless  we  get  through  the  desert  in 
time  to  cross  the  mountains  before  snow." 

When  George  heard  of  the  plan,  he  kicked  vigorously 

—  not   about  himself,   any  more,    but   about  Terry. 
However,  Terry  only  laughed. 


A  MEETING  IN  THE  DESERT         137 

"No,  sir;  I'm  the  man,"  he  insisted.  "I  can  be 
spared  the  easiest  of  anybody,  and  I'm  ready  to  see 
the  rails  again.  We'll  have  a  lot  of  fun,  on  the  way." 

Colonel  Mizner  detached  a  squad  of  the  cavalry, 
under  red-faced  Sergeant  Ryan,  for  an  escort  to 
Sanders,  and  by  way  of  Rawlins  Springs  they  back- 
tracked for  the  Laramie  Plains;  one  day  hove  in 
sight  of  Fort  Sanders  —  and  Terry  pointed  before, 
with  a  shout. 

"  See  'em  ?  Hurrah !  The  first  gang's  across  the 
pass.  Now  the  rails  will  follow." 

For  southward,  at  the  base  of  the  Black  Hills,  the 
tents  of  camps  glimmered,  and  a  reddish  line  of  up- 
turned earth  showed  like  a  thread.  The  advance  of 
the  railroad  graders  were  already  attacking  the  new 
survey  —  and,  as  Terry  had  cheered,  the  rails  would 
soon  follow. 


CHAPTER  XI 

MAJOR    HURD   IN    A   FIX 

AFTER  all,  it  seemed  good  to  be  getting  back  into  the 
midst  of  things  again.  Now  George  was  all  on  fire 
to  hasten  ahead,  and  see  the  "  doings."  So  they 
stopped  for  only  a  night  at  the  outpost  of  Fort  San- 
ders on  the  Laramie  River  at  the  western  foot  of  the 
Black  Hills,  twenty-two  miles  from  the  summit. 

"  Colonel  Gibbon  has  directed  that  I  furnish  you 
with  another  escort,"  said  Lieutenant  Wanless. 

!t  We  don't  need  an  escort  now,  lieutenant.  The 
trail's  plain.  There'll  be  the  graders'  camps,"  objected 
Terry. 

"  Yes,  and  there'll  be  the  Sioux,"  smiled  the  lieu- 
tenant. "  They  and  the  Cheyennes  are  busy  —  mak- 
ing their  last  fight,  I  guess.  They've  tied  up  opera- 
tions several  times  since  you  passed  through.  Either 
you  take  the  escort  or  you  don't  go  on." 

"  Shucks ! "  George  grumbled,  privately.  "  We 
could  travel  faster  alone.  I  want  to  see  what's  on  the 
other  side  of  the  hills." 

But  orders  being  orders,  they  set  out  with  a  squad 
of  G  Company  of  the  good  old  Second  Cavalry,  who 
were  instructed  to  land  them  with  the  first  survey 
party  going  in. 

Yes,  those  were  the  advance  graders,  all  right  — 
sweaty,  grimy,  jovial  Irishmen  in  their  red  shirts  and 

138 


MAJOR  KURD  IN  A  FIX  139 

scuffed  boots  and  brogans,  just  knocking  off  work  for 
nooning  when  the  Fort  Sanders  escort,  convoying  two 
explorers,  trotted  in. 

"  An'  where  have  yez  been  ?  "  asked  the  boss,  Big 
Mike,  curiously,  of  Terry. 

"  Into  the  Red  Desert  with  General  Dodge,  for  me, 
laying  out  the  trail  for  you  fellows.  But  my  pardner's 
been  clear  to  the  Green  on  the  other  side." 

"An'  what  did  yez  find?" 

"  Injuns  and  desert,  Mike.  Powerful  far  between 
water,  but  the  road  goes  through." 

"  That  kind  of  a  country,  is  it?  "  Mike  sighed,  and 
puffed  at  his  stubby  black  pipe.  "  Ah,  well ;  for  the 
Injuns  we  don't  care  a  rap,  b'  gorry;  an'  as  for  the 
wather,  sure  we'll  take  wan  big  drink  when  we  start 
in  an'  another  when  we  get  out.  Lucky  for  the  road 
that  'tain't  dependin'  on  them  Chinymen,  who  have 
to  have  their  tay  three  times  a  day.  For  it's  hard 
to  make  tay  widout  wather." 

"  What's  doing  eastward,  Mike?  " 

"Work  —  an'  work  ag'in.  But  ye'd  better  stay 
hereabouts  this  night.  There's  nothin'  in  the  pass 
yet.  We're  waitin'  for  powder  for  the  blastin',  so's 
to  lay  the  roadbed  in  the  rock." 

"  Have  the  rails  reached  Cheyenne?  " 

"  I  dunno.  They  hadn't  reached  it  whin  I  lift,  but 
the  people  had.  'Tis  another  town  started,  an'  before 
winter  'twill  be  roarin',  for  the  rails  are  comin'  fast  an' 
all  the  toughs  from  Julesburg'll  follow." 

They  camped  this  night  with  the  next  grading  camp, 
at  the  foot  of  the  pass. 


140          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

"  The  powder's  on  its  way  from  Julesburg,"  re- 
ported the  gang  boss.  "  Engineer  Hurd's  fetchin'  it 
from  end  o'  track  —  an'  supplies,  too.  Orders  be 
to  work  till  the  snows  stop  us.  Did  yez  hear  tell, 
out  west,  where  the  Cintral  is  by  this  time  ?  " 

"  About  two  months  ago  they  were  on  the  east  side 
of  the  Sierra  Nevada  Mountains  in  California,  and 
coming  on  down.  That's  what  the  telegraph  operator 
at  Green  River  stage  station  said,"  answered  George. 
"  They've  got  10,000  Chinese  coolies!  " 

"  An'  while  they're  a-comin'  down  we're  a-comin' 
up,  aye?  We'll  see  if  thray-dollar-a-day  Christians 
can't  bate  a-dollar-a-day  haythen." 

Before  the  next  noon,  from  the  Sherman  Summit 
they  craned  eagerly  to  catch  the  first  view  of  the  wide 
land  before.  Gradually  it  unfolded,  as  they  wound 
over  and  entered  the  downward  trail  —  and  on  a  sud- 
den Terry  uttered  a  sharp  cry  of  amazement. 

"  Great  Caesar's  ghost !     Look  at  Cheyenne." 

"Where?" 

"  Down  yonder.  See  that  bunch  of  whity  dots  and 
rusty  roofs,  away,  'way  off.  It's  Cheyenne,  I  bet. 
Gee!  And  when  we  came  through  in  July  there 
wasn't  anything." 

The  air  was  still  and  marvelously  clear;  in  straight 
line  as  the  crow  flies,  one  might  see  miles  and  miles 
—  seemed  as  though  one  could  see  to  Omaha,  t'le  be- 
ginning of  track  —  and  one  probably  could,  "if," 
as  Sol  Judy  would  say,  "  he  only  looked  far  enough !  " 

At  any  rate,  on  the  brownish  plain  twenty-five  miles 
by  air-line  there  was  smoke,  black  and  blue,  and  a  col- 


MAJOR  KURD  IN  A  FIX  141 

lection  of  the  whity  and  browny  dots  betokening  a 
town. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  there's  what  they  call  Cheyenne,  the 
'  Magic  City  of  the  Plains/  "  quoth  Corporal  Williams. 
"  Two  months  old,  with  a  thousand  people,  and  a 
town  government  already,  and  a  daily  paper  being 
started,  and  the  telegraph  almost  through  up  from 
Denver,  and  coal  mines  staked  off,  and  lots  that  the 
railroad  company  sold  for  $150  fetching  $2000  and 
better.  She's  a  hummer." 

"How  near  are  the  rails?"  demanded  Terry. 
That  was  the  important  matter. 

"  Fifty  miles  out  yet.  The  Injuns  have  bothered 
a  heap  —  corralling  the  graders  and  crews  and  run- 
ning off  stock.  But  those  Irish  keep  at  it,  between 
times.  Maybe  if  your  eyes  are  good  you  can  see  the 
smoke  of  the  construction-train,  against  the  horizon." 

"Is  Cheyenne  as  tough  as  Julesburg?"  asked 
George. 

The  corporal  laughed. 

"  Wait  till  the  pay-car  comes  on,  along  with  end  of 
track.  That  graveyard  the  Injuns  planted  will  be 
'tended  to  by  the  white  men.  She's  grown  already." 

Down  the  slope  of  the  pass  and  to  Cheyenne  the 
grade  was  marked,  and  knots  of  ants  were  busy  —  but 
not  ants,  they  were  men,  of  course.  As  for  the  smoke 
of  the  construction-train,  no  one  could  be  certain  that 
he  saw  it,  from  this  distance.  However,  it  was  there, 
seventy-five  miles  distant,  at  end  o'  track;  and  mile 
by  mile,  this  very  day,  it  was  drawing  nearer. 

You  could  trust  in  Paddy  Miles  for  that. 


142  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

"  Squad,  halt,"  barked  the  corporal.  "  Dismount. 
We'll  make  noon  camp,  boys.  By  evening  we'll  meet 
that  wagon  train,  yonder,  and  learn  the  news.  I  ex- 
pect there'll  be  some  surveyors  I  can  leave  you  with, 
on  the  right  o'  way,  who'll  pass  you  along.  The  or- 
ders are  for  me  to  get  back  to  Sanders  as  quick  as  ever 
I  can." 

Another  gang  of  graders  were  passed,  on  the  down- 
ward trail,  after  the  noon  hour.  They  were  digging 
a  cut  —  wielding  their  shovels  lustily,  and  throwing 
the  dirt  and  gravel  out  upon  the  dump,  while  their 
stacked  guns  stood  near,  and  the  ploughs  and  scrapers 
clattered. 

"  Drill,  you  tarriers,  drill !  "  daringly  shouted  Terry, 
as  with  George  and  the  cavalry  squad  he  rode  along 
the  line.  But  only  two  or  three  of  the  men  lifted 
face,  to  stare  and  wipe  their  brows;  the  rest  stuck  to 
the  job  as  if  they  had  no  time  for  nonsense. 

Now  there  was  an  interval  of  a  couple  of  miles;  and 
then  a  little  crew  of  surveyors,  checking  a  grade  al- 
ready leveled.  They  worked  with  revolvers  hanging 
at  their  waists,  and  picked  up  their  rifles  and  blanket- 
rolls  whenever  they  moved  on  with  level  and  transit. 

"  Where's  your  camp,  boys?  "  queried  the  corporal. 

"  Anywhere  we  spread  our  beds,  corporal.  We 
bunk  and  eat  with  the  grading  gangs,  mostly.  You'll 
likely  find  a  real  camp  further  on,  before  night." 

There  was  another  interval,  of  five  or  six  miles  — 
and  then  the  wagon  train.  It  was  moving  slowly  —  a 
dozen  of  the  great  white-canvassed  freighter  wagons, 
a  number  of  trudging  teamsters,  a  handful  of  riders 


MAJOR  KURD  IN  A  FIX  143 

ambling  at  the  head,  and  a  cavalry  company  guarding 
the  rear  and  scouting  in  the  fore. 

"  Supplies  from  headquarters,  I  reckon,"  spoke  the 
corporal.  "  Fetching  up  that  powder  and  some  provi- 
sions, like  as  not." 

The  two  parties  approached  each  other.  Jones,  the 
big  "  buck  "  private  riding  behind  Terry  and  George 
and  the  corporal,  exclaimed  shortly: 

1  Those  ain't  the  regular  cavalry ;  they're  some  o' 
them  Pawnee  scouts." 

'  Yes  —  and  they  see  something,  too/*  Corporal 
Williams'  voice  issued  tensely.  "  Close  up,  men. 
Draw  —  carbines !  That  looks  like  hostiles,  some- 
where around." 

"  I  see  'em !  "  George  yelped.  "  Down  to  the  south ! 
Making  'round  that  point  of  hills." 

"  And  watch  those  Pawnees  go  after  'em!  "  ejacu- 
lated Corporal  Williams.  "  Squad,  halt !  Steady, 
men,  till  we  see  what's  what." 

The  wagon  train,  about  two  miles  before,  had 
changed  formation  in  a  hurry.  Its  escort  had  sud- 
denly bunched,  and  now  were  streaming  furiously 
across  country,  in  wild  charge  upon  another  bunch 
of  horsemen  skirting  the  range  of  hills  on  the  south. 
The  Pawnee  yells  might  be  heard  faintly,  as  the 
scouts  urged  their  ponies  with  their  quirts  and  heels, 
and  wrestled  out  of  their  clothes  as  they  rode. 

The  quarry  had  seen,  as  quickly.  They  were  fifty 
—  Indians,  sure,  driving  a  herd  of  stock. 

"  Sioux,  I  bet  yuh !  "  rapped  the  corporal.  "  Robbed 
a  graders'  camp.  I  see  more  of  the  beggars,  too- 


144  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

those  hills  are  full  of  'em.  But  look  at  those  Pawnees ! 
Never  think  of  the  wagon  train,  they  don't.  Plumb 
left  it,  set  on  getting  scalps.  It's  corralling.  Squad, 
'tenshun!  For'd,  march!  Trot!  Gallop!  We'd 
better  get  there  while  we  can,  boys." 

Away  they  dashed.  The  train  had  corralled,  in 
a  complete  circle  of  wagons,  wheel  to  wheel  and  the 
teams  turned  inside.  The  ground  there  was  rough 
and  rocky,  among  rises.  "  Granite  Canyon  "  it  was 
called,  after  the  railroad  grade  had  been  blasted 
through. 

The  Pawnees  were  still  scurrying;  the  Sioux  had 
defiantly  paused,  as  though  to  give  battle.  If  while 
they  fought,  the  other  Sioux  came  down  —  well, 
there'd  be  considerable  trouble. 

"  They'll  not  cut  us  off,  now,"  declared  Corporal 
Williams.  "  They're  a  little  too  leary." 

And  with  horses  blowing  the  squad  tore  in,  to  the 
corralled  train. 

"  This  way!  Here's  a  hole  for  you."  They  were 
inside. 

"  Glad  to  see  you."  It  was  Major  Marshall  Hurd 
himself,  the  principal  engineer  assistant  to  Mr.  Reed, 
superintendent  of  construction.  "  What  do  you  think 
of  my  Pawnees?  " 

"  They're  keen  on  a  fight,  sir.  Just  show  'em  some 
Sioux,  and  away  they  go ;  but  they  don't  wait  orders," 
laughed  the  corporal. 

"  Hardly."  And  Engineer  Hurd  smiled  grimly. 
"  There  were  no  white  officers  with  this  bunch,  to  hold 
'em,  and  away  they  went.  Now  here  we  are,  with  a 


MAJOR  KURD  IN  A  FIX  145 

wagon  train  of  powder  and  provisions,  and  no  guard. 
Station  your  men,  corporal,  where  they  can  help  the 
teamsters.  We'll  put  up  a  white  man's  fight,  and  the 
Pawnees  can  go  hang.  Colonel  Seymour,  you  take 
command  of  this  side  of  the  corral,  if  you  please, 
and  show  your  Civil  War  training.  I'll  take  command 
of  the  other  side.  These  boys " 

"  Hello !  "  Colonel  Silas  Seymour  ( for  it  was  he, 
again,  evidently  on  another  trip  to  the  Black  Hills) 
addressed  Terry.  "  You're  back,  are  you  ?  Where 
did  you  leave  the  general  ?  " 

"  In  the  Red  Desert,  sir.  He  and  the  rest  of  the 
party  are  with  the  Bates  party,  but  he  sent  my  pardner 
and  me  in  with  dispatches  for  General  Casement." 

"  All  right.  You'll  find  General  Casement  at  Chey- 
enne. They're  still  doing  business  with  end  o'  track. 
I  saw  your  old  yellow  mule,  and  one  of  the  Mul- 
doons  on  her  back.  Now  you  and  your  partner  crawl 
under  a  wagon  and  help  out.  Grab  a  gun  apiece. 
You  can  shoot  ?  Good !  " 

The  Pawnees  had  disappeared;  and  although  the 
wagon  corral  waited  all  the  afternoon,  they  did  not 
return  —  did  not  come  even  into  sight,  again ! 

Several  other  Sioux  were  to  be  seen,  in  the  rough 
country  north  of  the  line.  They  seemed  to  be  spy- 
ing. They  did  not  venture  nearer,  but  Major  Hurd 
was  wise  enough  not  to  open  the  corral ;  all  along  the 
line  the  graders'  camps,  if  they  knew  about  the  enemy, 
were  playing  safe,  too. 

Dusk  settled,  and  still  there  was  no  sign  of  the  Paw- 
nees. 


146  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

"  This  will  never  do,"  finally  Major  Kurd  declared. 
"  We're  only  twenty  miles  from  Cheyenne,  and  the 
whole  line  is  being  held  up.  I  hate  to  spare  a  single 
man,  but  we'll  have  to  send  back  for  an  escort,  colonel. 
I  can't  risk  taking  this  train  on,  without  better  pro- 
tection. It's  too  valuable  a  prize." 

"  You  can  detail  a  couple  of  those  soldiers,  I  sup- 
pose." 

"We  may  need  them;  but  it  can't  be  helped. 
Where's  the  corporal?  I'll- 

George  nudged  Terry,  and  Terry  understood.  He 
stood  forward  and  saluted. 

"  We'll  go,  major.  We're  carrying  dispatches  any- 
way." 

"  You  two  boys  ?  I  don't  doubt  you'd  do  as  well  as 
anybody,  if  the  Indians  didn't  get  after  you,  but  in 
a  case  like  this " 

"  Aw,  shucks !  "  blurted  George,  who  wasn't  much 
on  military  discipline.  "  We're  used  to  Injuns. 
Tisn't  far,  Mr.  Hurd.  Only  twenty  miles.  Injuns 
wouldn't  see  us  any  quicker  than  they  would  anybody 
else.  We've  ridden  worse  trails  than  that." 

"  And  we've  got  General  Dodge's  dispatches,  too," 
added  Terry.  "  Wish  you'd  let  us  go,  sir." 

"  I  expect  they  could  make  it  as  well  as  two  men, 
major,"  put  in  Colonel  Seymour.  "  That  is,  if  they're 
as  smart  as  they  think  they  are." 

"  We're  smart  enough  to  fool  Injuns,"  asserted 
George.  "  Anyway,  we're  not  afraid." 

"  You're  a  likely  pair,"  said  Major  Hurd,  abruptly. 
"  I'll  chance  your  getting  through.  You'll  start  at 


MAJOR  KURD  IN  A  FIX  147 

midnight.  That'll  bring  you  there  by  daylight.  I'll 
give  you  a  dispatch  for  the  military  commander  at 
new  Fort  Russell.  There'll  be  several  graders'  camps 
along  the  way  —  but  you'd  better  keep  out  from  them 
if  you  can,  or  somebody '11  take  a  shot  at  you.  If 
you're  driven  into  one,  then  halloo  in  good  English 
before  you  arrive." 

'  Yes,  sir.  I  don't  believe  we'll  need  any  help, 
though,"  answered  Terry;  and  George  proclaimed: 

"  Sure  not.  We'll  not  stop  for  help.  Injuns  don't 
bother  in  the  dark." 

"  Huh!  "  Terry  replied.  "  Don't  they,  these  days? 
You  ought  to  have  been  with  us  at  Plum  Creek ! " 


CHAPTER  XII 

TWO    ON    THE    SCOUT    TRAIL 

THEY  left  shortly  after  midnight,  with  Major  Kurd's 
dispatch  tucked  inside  Terry's  shirt  along  with  the 
General  Dodge  letters.  The  men  of  the  wagon  corral, 
except  the  sentries,  were  asleep,  but  Colonel  Sey- 
mour had  stayed  up.  He  and  the  major  shook  hands 
with  the  two  couriers. 

"  Good  luck  to  you.  We'll  depend  on  your  send- 
ing that  escort  and  opening  the  line  again." 

"What  was  that  General  Dodge  said?  Boys  are 
mighty  handy,  sometimes  —  wasn't  it?"  George 
chuckled,  as  they  rode  away. 

"  That's  what,"  agreed  Terry.  "  But  this  is  noth- 
ing. All  we've  got  to  do  is  to  keep  going  —  same  as 
the  railroad." 

"  Can't  hurry,  though,  and  kick  up  a  fuss,"  warned 
George.  "  Sure  and  steady,  is  the  word,  boy.  We 
want  to  steer  clear  of  those  gradfers'  camps,  too. 
They  shoot  first  and  ask  questions  afterward." 

"  You  bet." 

The  plains  before  stretched  wide  and  lonesome  in 
spite  of  the  railroad  work.  On  either  side  of  the  sur- 
vey stakes  and  the  few  graders'  camps  it  lay  for  hun- 
dreds of  miles,  by  day  broken  with  uplifts  and  ravines 

148 


TWO  ON  THE  SCOUT  TRAIL          149 

and  ridges,  but  by  night  shrouded  all  in  mystery,  and 
looking  all  the  same. 

Above,  the  bright  stars  studded  the  black;  below, 
there  were  no  landmarks,  except  the  upturned  earth 
where  the  graders'  ploughs  and  picks  and  spades  had 
followed  the  stakes.  And  frequently  there  was  not 
even  this,  when  the  work  had  been  interrupted  or  post- 
poned. 

The  horses  traveled,  with  ears  pricked,  at  fast  walk. 
Their  hoofs  occasionally  clinked  on  a  stone ;  and  again 
were  muffled  in  the  sand  and  sod.  The  canteens  now 
and  then  jingled,  the  saddle  leather  squeaked,  one 
horse  or  the  other  blew  snortingly.  But  the  silence  of 
the  night,  in  such  a  country,  was  too  big  to  be  dis- 
turbed by  such  small  noises. 

However,  with  a  good  horse  under  him,  and  a  Spen- 
cer repeating  carbine  across  his  saddle  horn,  and  a 
stanch  chum  by  his  side,  and  a  trail  to  which  he  was 
used,  before  him,  a  fellow  need  not  feel  afraid. 

They  jogged  on.  The  darkness  was  not  the  thick 
kind;  it  never  is,  in  the  clear  night  in  the  great  open. 
The  graded  trail  loomed  blackly,  and  warned  by  his 
glowing  eyes  they  once  or  twice  glimpsed  a  coyote 
slip  away,  like  a  shadow. 

They  tried  to  parallel  the  railroad  survey,  until, 
after  they  had  ridden  for  an  hour,  maybe,  in  the  dis- 
tance ahead  they  heard  a  dog  barking. 

"  Graders'  camp,  huh !  "  George  grunted. 

"  Yep.  Can't  be  Injuns.  Injuns  wouldn't  camp 
along  the  right  o'  way.  Not  when  the  Pawnees  are 
out  after  'em.  We'd  better  branch  off  and  go  'round." 


150          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

"  Right  you  are.     Edge  off,  toward  the  North  Star." 

So  they  veered  from  the  due  east  and  catty-cornered 
in  the  direction  of  the  North  Star. 

"  Keep  it  between  chin  and  shoulder.  That'll  take 
us  'round,  I  reckon,  and  we'll  know  how  far  to  turn 
back  in,"  Terry  directed. 

"  Aw,  we  couldn't  miss  the  railroad  grades,  anyway/' 
George  scoffed. 

"  A  fellow  can  miss  almost  anything,  at  night,  un- 
less he's  mighty  careful." 

"  Couldn't  miss  Cheyenne,  though." 

f<  Well,  this  is  a  big  country,  just  the  same." 

They  rode  and  rode.  The  barking  of  the  dog  had 
quit.  They  were  surely  past  the  graders'  camp;  it 
was  high  time  to  turn  in.  George  suddenly  exclaimed : 

"What's  the  matter,  up  yonder?  Blame  it,  the 
sky's  clouding.  Can't  scarcely  see  the  North  Star, 
now." 

"  That's  right.  It's  light  enough  down  here,  though. 
Doesn't  feel  like  a  storm." 

"  No ;  but  how'll  we  keep  direction  ?  " 

"  Guess  at  it.  If  we  travel  in  a  straight  line  as 
we're  heading,  we'll  strike  the  grade  somewhere." 

Terry  turned  more  sharply,  to  make  certain,  and 
they  rode.  They  rode  —  and  they  rode,  with  eyes 
keen  to  catch  the  first  traces  of  the  railroad  survey. 

"  Do  you  reckon  we've  crossed  it  ?  " 

"  No.     It's  in  front  of  us.     Must  be." 

"  Wish  some  dog  would  bark,"  George  complained. 
"  Let's  stop  a  minute." 

They  stopped,  and  listened.  They  did  not  hear  a 
sound. 


TWO  ON  THE  SCOUT  TRAIL          151 

"  I'll  be  darned !  "  George  grumbled.  "  Just  when 
we  need  a  dog,  he  doesn't  bark.  And  there's  not  a 
single  star  in  the  whole  blamed  sky.  How  can  a  fel- 
low travel  by  night  without  stars  ?  " 

"  Injuns  can." 

"Well,  we  aren't  Injuns.'' 

"  So  could  Jim  Bridger,  I  bet  you." 

"  So  could  I,  if  I  knew  where  I  was  going,"  re- 
torted George. 

"  Keep  going." 

"  Keep  going/'  George  echoed. 

They  rode.  The  horses  no  longer  pricked  up  their 
ears;  they  plodded  with  only  an  occasional  shying  off 
from  unexpected  objects,  but  otherwise  did  not  take 
much  interest.  That  was  a  bad  sign.  The  country 
under  foot  seemed  to  be  growing  rougher.  A  deep 
gully  cut  the  blind  trail,  and  had  to  be  followed  for  a 
piece,  until  the  horses  plunged  in,  and  out  again. 

Terry  reined,  and  spoke. 

"  Either  we're  lost  or  the  grade's  lost." 

"  Shucks !  We're  hefty  scouts,  to  lose  a  railroad 
line." 

"  Wouldn't  have  lost  it,  if  the  sky  hadn't  clouded 
over.  And  we  haven't  any  compass." 

"  Next  time  we'll  ride  right  through  any  graders' 
camp  and  let  'em  shoot,"  declared  George.  "  What 
had  we  better  do?  Keep  going?  " 

"  Seems  to  me  we're  headed  nearly  right,  anyhow," 
mused  Terry.  "  I  don't  think  that  gully  threw  us 
off,  much.  These  horses  are  liable  to  take  us  some- 
where if  we  give  'em  the  rein  —  liable  to  take  us  to 
a  camp  or  into  Cheyenne." 


152          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

"  Maybe  they  don't  know  about  Cheyenne. " 

"  Gwan !  "  bade  Terry,  to  his  mount ;  and  they  rode 
on  again,  through  the  stillness  and  the  monotonous 
dusk. 

After  what  might  have  been  a  long  time,  of  plod- 
ding and  stumbling  and  rasping  through  brush  and 
over  rocks,  the  horses  halted,  of  themselves,  at  the 
base  of  a  steep  slope  which  slanted  up  into  the  night. 
Their  riders  peered,  and  hope  died. 

"We're  plumb  lost,  for  sure,"  growled  George. 
"  There's  no  railroad  grade  here ;  it's  somewhere  else. 
Which  way's  east,  I'd  like  to  know." 

"  'Tisn't  this  way.  We  must  be  north  of  the  grade, 
still.  We'd  better  follow  along  this  hill,  and  strike 
in  another  direction.  Come  on." 

They  rode  (the  horses  were  glad  not  to  climb)  and 
leaving  the  slope  they  presently  arrived  against  an- 
other slope,  in  the  new  direction. 

"  Say !  The  farther  we  go  the  farther  we  are  from 
anywhere,"  George  flatly  declared.  "  I  vote  we  quit 
till  daylight.  Then  we  can  see  something.  This 
blundering  about  and  getting  no  place  isn't  any  fun." 

"  W-well,"  sighed  Terry,  "  I  reckon  you're  right, 
boy.  Might  as  well  save  our  hosses.  But  I  hate  to 
give  in." 

So  did  George.  Still,  as  he  had  said,  they  weren't 
getting  any  place  with  all  their  riding.  He  plumped 
from  the  saddle,  and  fumbled  at  his  picket  rope. 

"What  you  doing?" 

"  Going  to  picket  this  horse,  and  take  a  snooze." 

He  was  practical,  George  was ;  nothing  phazed  him. 


TWO  ON  THE  SCOUT  TRAIL          153 

"  All  right.  Leave  the  saddles  on,  though,  and  the 
bits  in,  so  we  can  mount  in  a  jiffy." 

"  You  talk  sense,  pard,"  George  answered  broadly. 

They  picketed  their  horses  close  within  reach,  and 
snuggled  down  like  old  campaigners. 

"  When  the  sky  gets  light,  we'll  know  where  the  east 
is,  then,  sure,"  remarked  Terry. 

"  Yes ;  and  we  may  find  ourselves  right  close  to  the 
grade,  or  we  may  be  a  thousand  miles  from  nowhere," 
George  sleepily  murmured.  "  Br-r !  Wish  we'd 
brought  a  blanket." 

The  night  was  chill.  Terry  grew  colder  and  colder, 
and  shivered.  He  hunched  up,  longing  for  daybreak 
—  he  nodded  off,  and  shivered  awake.  The  horses 
cropped  and  snorted ;  George  always  could  sleep  at  any 
time  and  at  any  place,  and  now  began  to  gurgle.  Terry- 
dozed  for  short  intervals;  finally  let  himself  go  (there 
wasn't  any  use  in  mounting  guard,  here,  over  the  two 
of  them) ;  and  when  again  he  opened  his  eyes,  the 
blackness  had  paled. 

Morning ! 

He  scrambled  to  his  feet,  and  easily  located  the 
east,  by  the  brightness  of  the  sky  there.  Birds  were 
twittering  in  the  brush  —  hill  slopes  of  sage  and 
gravel  rose  on  right  and  left,  as  the  night  thinned;  but 
all  the  landscape  was  lonely,  without  trace  of  other 
human  beings.  Not  even  an  antelope  was  in  sight. 

He  shook  George. 

"Wha'  'smatter?" 

"  Morning.     Let's  get  out  of  here." 

"I   should   say!"     And  George  staggered  to  his 


154          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

feet.  "  Did  you  sleep,  too  ?  Where  are  we,  any- 
how ?  "  And  he  blinked  about. 

"  I  don't  know.  But  we'll  hit  south  as  fast  as  we 
can.  There's  the  east.  Once  we're  out  of  these  hills, 
then  we  can  see  something." 

Without  wasting  time  George  stumbled  for  his  horse ; 
they  hung  the  picket  ropes  to  the  saddles,  swung 
aboard,  and  were  on  their  way  again. 

"Follow  down  this  draw?" 

"  Yes.  If  it  doesn't  lead  right  we'll  climb  a  hill 
and  take  a  look." 

The  morning  brightened  rapidly.  The  draw  seemed 
to  lead  in  the  right  direction.  It  opened  into  a  roll- 
ing plain  —  hurrah!  And  now  they  saw,  far  before, 
a  column  of  smoke  suspended  in  the  still  air. 

"Camp!     There's  the  grade!" 

"  How  in  thunder  did  we  ever  get  away  out  here?  " 

"  I  dunno.  We  ought  to  have  been  at  Cheyenne 
by  this  time." 

"  Well,  we'll  get  there  now,"  asserted  George. 
"  But  we're  hefty  dispatch  bearers." 

The  smoke  column  was  some  three  miles  yonder. 
They  pushed  for  it,  at  a  trot  —  thought  that  they 
could  see  the  line  itself,  and  Terry  was  just  saying: 
"  Cheyenne  can't  be  very  far,  either,"  when  George's 
voice  broke  in  a  little  gasp. 

"Terry!  Injuns!  Look  quick.  We'll  never  make 
it." 

Terry  looked.  Quartering  on  their  right,  ahead, 
out  from  a  low  place  in  the  range  of  bare  hills,  there, 
the  Indians  were  coming,  at  last.  There  was  no  mis- 


TWO  ON  THE  SCOUT  TRAIL          155 

take  about  that.  They  were  less  than  a  mile  away  — 
they  rode  like  Indians,  they  acted  like  Indians,  and 
Indians  they  were,  charging  full  tilt;  twenty-five  or 
thirty  of  them. 

Terry's  heart  surged  into  his  throat.  A  wave  of 
sickness  swept  through  him.  He  hauled  on  the  rein. 

"  Run  for  it,  George.  Never  mind  the  grade  — 
they'll  cut  us  off.  But  we'll  beat  'em  to  Cheyenne. 
Got  to." 

"  Sure  have.     They  may  quit." 

"We  can  fort  and  fight  'em  off,  till  help  comes. 
Blame  the  luck!  Major  Kurd's  counting  on  us." 

"  Never  say  die  till  you're  dead,"  panted  George. 
"  Maybe  Cheyenne  isn't  far.  Maybe  a  graders'  camp 
has  seen." 

They  tore  on  at  best  speed.  Terry  glanced  aside, 
to  measure  distance  again.  The  sky  in  the  east  had 
cleared,  and  the  sun  was  just  launching  his  first  level 
rays  across  the  sage.  They  brought  the  Indians  into 
plainer  view.  The  gap  between  the  two,  pursuers  and 
pursued,  had  narrowed.  Those  were  good  ponies  as 
well  as  good  riders,  and  the  horses  were  stiff  and  slug- 
gish. 

"  Dog-gone !  They're  closing  in  on  us,"  George 
remarked,  as  if  trying  to  speak  matter-of-fact.  George 
never  got  rattled,  in  a  pinch.  He  might  be  depended 
upon,  to  the  last  inch. 

"  Guess  they  are."  And  Terry  also  tried  to  speak 
cheerfully.  "If  we  could  only  get  to  that  ridge  yonder, 
maybe  we'd  see  Cheyenne." 

The  Indians  were  beginning  to  whoop.     Their  cries 


156          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

wafted  shrilly  and  threateningly  —  likewise  gleefully. 
They  were  between  the  boys  and  the  distant  grade 
—  were  closing  in  almost  parallel.  From  the  grade 
nobody  was  coming,  to  the  rescue.  It  seemed  horrible 
to  be  cut  off,  this  way,  and  forced  to  fight  for  one's 
life,  right  within  sight  of  other  persons  —  right 
within  sight  of  possible  help;  but  that  had  been  the 
story  of  the  railroad,  to  date.  The  same  thing  had 
occurred  along  almost  every  mile  of  the  track,  and  the 
grading,  and  the  surveys. 

"  When  we  come  to  a  good  place,  stop  quick. 
We'll  have  to  fight  'em  off,  George,"  spoke  Terry. 
"  We  can't  make  even  the  ridge." 

A  fellow  could  always  do  that,  if  he  was  smart: 
down  his  horse,  fort  behind  it,  and  shoot  true. 

The  yells  were  louder.  The  Indians  were  within 
easy  range.  In  a  moment  the  bullets  would  commence 
to  sing. 

"  Now !  "  rasped  Terry  —  and  at  the  instant  George's 
horse  stumbled,  pitched  to  his  knees,  and  sent  George 
flying  over  its  head.  Terry  reined  in  a  jiffy,  tumbled 
off,  and  leveled  his  carbine  across  the  saddle. 

"  Give  it  to  'em.  Get  up  —  catch  your  hoss.  I'll 
hold  'em  off." 

The  sight  blurred  in  his  eyes  —  but  the  Indians 
swerved  madly  —  he  saw  the  nearest  lift  hand,  palm 
to  the  front,  heard  him  shout  —  and  heard  George 
also. 

"  Wait !     Don't  shoot.     They're  Pawnees !  " 

So  they  were  —  the  Pawnee  scouts,  several  of  them 
in  army  breeches  made  into  leggins.  They  had 


TWO  ON  THE  SCOUT  TRAIL          157 

bunched  and  halted,  the  leader  '(the  one  with  the  hand 
up)  was  riding  forward,  grinning;  now  the  rest  fol- 
lowed. The  relief  was  so  great  that  Terry  felt  faint 
and  trembly. 

"  I  suppose  they  think  it's  a  great  joke,"  panted 
George.  "  It'd  served  'em  right  if  we'd  wiped  out 
a  few  of  'em.  And  we'd  have  done  it,  too,  in  a  min- 
ute more." 

The  Pawnees  evidently  did  think  it  a  great  joke. 
They  came  on  laughing  and  prancing.  The  leader, 
their  sergeant,  shook  hands  with  Terry,  and  with  the 
angry  George. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  chasing  us,  anyhow  ? " 
George  demanded. 

The  sergeant,  who  wore  breeches-leggins  with  a 
commissioned  officer's  yellow  stripe  down  their  seam, 
grinned  broadly. 

"  Heap  run,"  he  chuckled.  "  No  good.  Pawnees 
ketch  'um,  samee  Sioux.  Make  young  warriors. 
Good  boys." 

"Humph!"  Then  Terry  found  himself  smiling, 
too.  There  was  no  use  in  being  sour  over  such  luck. 
"Where  you  going?" 

"  Where  you  go  ?  "  answered  the  sergeant. 

"  Cheyenne." 

"  All  right.     We  go  Cheyenne.     Come." 

George's  horse  was  unhurt;  they  mounted. 

"You  with  Major  Hurd?"  queried  Terry. 

"  Yes.  Chase  Sioux ;  kill  heap ;  many  scalps.  Take 
'um  Crow  Creek,  have  big  dance." 

"  Why  don't  you  go  back  to  the  wagon  train  ?  " 


158          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

scolded  George.  "  That's  where  you  belong.  What 
are  you  out  here  chasing  white  men  for?  " 

"  No  wagon  train.  Kill  all  Sioux,  now  bring  scalps 
to  soldier  chief.  Scare  white  boys,  make  'em  run. 
Hoo-rah !  " 

The  Pawness  were  in  the  highest  kind  of  spirits. 
They  seemed  to  think  nothing  of  having  left  the  wagon 
train  in  the  lurch,  but  they  thought  a  whole  lot  of  their 
successful  fight  with  the  Sioux.  Now  they  were  go- 
ing back  to  Crow  Creek,  or  Cheyenne,  to  celebrate. 

Taking  the  two  dispatch-bearers,  they  laid  a  straight 
course  —  knew  exactly  where  they  were  heading. 
And  sure  enough,  from  the  crest  of  the  next  little  rise 
Cheyenne  was  plain  in  sight,  with  the  railroad  grade 
running  into  its  collection  of  tents  and  shacks  and  new 
buildings,  and  through  and  on  east  to  meet  end  o'  track. 

The  first  thing  to  do,  of  course,  was  to  hustle  the 
Major  Hurd  dispatch  into  the  hands  of  the  command- 
ing officer  at  the  new  Fort  Russell,  which  was  as  yet 
only  a  tent  camp  outside  of  town,  and  leave  their 
Spencer  carbines ;  then  to  look  up  General  "  Jack  " 
Casement,  and  give  him  the  General  Dodge  dispatches 
and  report  for  duty;  all  before  breakfast. 

Scarcely  had  they  reached  town,  from  the  fort,  when 
a  detachment  of  cavalry  was  trotting  into  the  west, 
to  relieve  the  Hurd  wagon  train.  That  was  good. 
Now  for  General  Casement. 

"  It's  shore  some  town,"  George  commented,  as  they 
ambled  through,  curiously  inspecting. 

And  so  it  was,  they  were  to  find  out :  the  "  Magic 
City  of  the  Plains,"  with  already  over  a  thousand 


TWO  ON  THE  SCOUT  TRAIL          159 

people,  here  where  three  months  before  there  had  been 
only  a  bare  expanse,  and  a  graveyard  of  two  dead 
men;  with  streets  named,  and  city  officers  in  charge, 
and  a  daily  paper,  and  sKingled  roofs  as  well  as  sheet- 
iron  and  canvas,  and  several  two-story  buildings,  one 
of  which,  55  x  25  feet,  had  been  erected  of  raw  rough 
lumber  from  Denver  in  forty-eight  hours! 

Luckily,  whom  should  they  sight  but  General  Case- 
ment himself,  getting  this,  the  new  terminal,  into 
shape  to  receive  the  sidings  and  his  warehouse  and 
all,  for  end  o'  track  was  only  forty  miles  out  and  com- 
ing fast. 

They  vaulted  off,  where  he  was  talking  with  Super- 
intendent Sam  Reed.  Terry  saluted. 

"  Dispatches  from  General  Dodge,  sir,"  he  said. 

"Hello!  It's  you  again,  is  it?  Well!  Where'd 
you  hail  from,  this  time  ?  "  demanded  the  little  general. 

"  From  the  Red  Desert,  sir ;  the  both  of  us.  I  found 
George  Stanton  —  or  we  all  did,  I  mean,  with  the 
Bates  party.  The  general  sent  us  back." 

"  I  see." 

General  Casement  quickly  tore  open  the  dispatches, 
and  read  them. 

"  Very  good,"  he  said.     "  Had  your  breakfast?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"Had  a  pleasant  trip?" 

"  Yes,  sir.  The  Pawnees  charged  us,  to  scare  us ; 
but  we  forted  behind  our  horses  and  were  going  to 
fight  them  off,  only  we  didn't  need  to." 

"  They  gave  us  the  peace  sign  just  in  time,  too/* 
George  added ;  "  or  else  they'd  have  lost  some  scalps." 


160          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

And  he  wagged  his  head  and  growled  hostily.  "  The 
laugh  would  have  been  on  them,  I'll  bet." 

"Hah!"  chuckled  the  little  general.  "That's  the 
talk.  You're  the  right  stuff.  You  ought  to  be 
corporals,  at  least.  Now  what?  Ready  for  work?" 

"  Yes,  sir.  I've  got  a  job  at  end  o'  track,"  Terry 
answered. 

"I'll  take  a  job  somewhere  if  I  can  get  one,"  as- 
serted George.  "  I  don't  want  to  loaf." 

"  All  right.  Mr.  Reed  and  I,  between  us,  will  see 
that  you  don't  loaf,  young  man.  Nobody  loafs,  along 
the  U.  P.  But  first  you  get  breakfast,  both  of  you. 
Then  you  can  have  till  noon.  Report  to  one  of  us 
at  noon;  if  we're  not  here,  go  on  out  to  end  o'  track 
and  find  us." 

"  Sha'n't  I  start  in  hauling  rails  again,  sir  ?  "  Terry 
asked. 

"  You'll  start  in  at  something  or  other,  never  fear ; 
and  so  shall  this  other  boy.  How  are  you  fixed  for 
funds?  Got  breakfast  money?  " 

"  I  haven't,"  George  confessed. 

"  Guess  I  have,"  said  Terry. 

"  Never  mind.  Here."  And  General  Casement 
scribbled  upon  a  pocket  pad  and  tore  off  the  leaf. 
"  You  take  this  to  the  Home  Cooking  restaurant,  two 
blocks  up  and  right  around  the  corner  to  your  left. 
It's  run  by  two  women  —  regular  white  women.  It's 
a  fine  place.  I  eat  there  myself,  and  so  does  Mr. 
Reed." 

"  I  recommend  it  without  reserve,"  Mr.  Reed  as- 
serted. "  The  best  cooking  this  side  of  Omaha.  And 
very  clean,  pleasant  women." 


TWO  ON  THE  SCOUT  TRAIL          161 
The  leaf  said : 

Feed  these  two  boys  two  big  meals  each.  Charge 
to  me. 

J.  S.  Casement,  U.  P.  R.  R. 
(Late  Brig.  Gen.,  U.  S.  V.) 

"  Turn  your  horses  in  at  the  Square  Deal  corral, 
for  feed  and  water,"  bade  General  Casement.  "  Tell 
the  man  I'll  settle  for  them  when  I  settle  for  my  own." 

"  And  be  sure  to  try  the  apple  pie,"  added  Super- 
intendent Reed.  "  It's  the  real  thing." 

"  Yes,  sir ;  we  will.  Thanks  very  much,"  they  re- 
plied, replying  to  all  instructions  at  once. 

"  Don't  forget  the  apple  pie,"  Superintendent  Reed 
reminded,  after  them,  as  they  rode  away. 

"  Do  you  suppose  we  can  get  apple  pie  for  break- 
fast?" George  queried,  anxiously. 

"  I  dunno.  We  can  ask.  Jiminy !  I  haven't  had 
a  piece  of  real  apple  pie  for  a  coon's  age,"  said  Terry. 
[<  We're  in  luck,  anyhow.  We  might  have  had  to  go 
clear  to  end  o'  track  without  eating." 

" '  Home  cooking '  restaurant  sounds  good  to  me. 
But  you  can't  always  tell.  Sometimes  those  names 
are  frauds  —  they  don't  pan  out.  Golly,  I'd  like  to 
sit  down  to  regular  home  cooking  again,  by  women  like 
my  mother." 

"  Or  like  mine.  So  would  I,"  agreed  Terry.  "  Men 
cooks  are  all  right,  but  it  doesn't  seem  to  come  natural 
to  'em.  Now  a  woman,  she  just  slings  stuff  together 
and  you  never  know  how  it's  going  to  taste  except  it'll 
taste  exactly  right." 


162          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

"  That  is,  if  she's  like  our  mothers,"  George  per- 
sisted. 

All  Cheyenne  was  ringing  with  the  sound  of  busy 
hammering,  as  scores  of  men  labored  with  might  and 
main  to  put  up  still  more  buildings.  It  certainly  was 
a  lively  place.  They  stowed  their  horses  in  the  Square 
Deal,  and  on  foot  found  the  Home  Cooking  restaurant. 

"  Doesn't  look  much,"  George  criticized,  when  they 
inspected  it  from  the  outside. 

"  'Bout  the  same  as  the  rest  of  'em,  only  smells  kind 
of  good."  And  Terry  sniffed. 

The  Home  Cooking  restaurant  was  of  canvas  walls 
boarded  part  way  up,  and  corrugated  sheet-iron  roof 
painted  red,  and  seemed  brand  new.  A  large  square 
canvas  sign  hung  up  in  front,  with  the  name  on  it. 
The  front  door  was  ajar.  Through  it  there  wafted 
those  odors  that  had  made  Terry  sniff.  Inside  there 
was  hammering  and  voices. 

"  Gee,  I  do  smell  pie  —  or  something,"  George  de- 
clared, wrinkling  his  nose  as  he  drew  long  breaths. 
"Shall  we  try  it?" 

"  Sure.  Come  on.  We're  not  afraid  of  women, 
even  if  we  aren't  washed  up." 

So  in  they  clumped.  The  room  was  as  neat  as  wax. 
There  was  a  long  counter  with  a  row  of  stools  in  front 
of  it,  and  several  signs  — "  Home  Coffee,"  "  Home 
Bread,"  "Home  Doughnuts,"  "Home  Apple  Pie," 
"We  Are  Ladies.  Please  Be  Gentlemen,"  "Re- 
member Your  Mother,  Boys." 

A  woman  in  a  blue  checkered  gingham  dress  was 
tacking  shiny  white  oilcloth  upon  the  counter.  That 


TWO  ON  THE  SCOUT  TRAIL         163 

was  a  part  of  the  hammering.  She  had  her  back 
turned,  and  hadn't  heard  them  enter. 

"Please,  ma'am,  may  we  get  breakfast  here?" 
Terry  asked. 

Whew,  how  good  that  room  smelled! 

"  Why,  I  think  I  can  accommodate  you,"  the  woman 
answered,  speaking  through  the  tacks  between  her  lips. 
"  We  can  give  you  something  —  we're  just  opening 

up "  and  she  took  her  tacks  out  and  raised  her 

head,  to  face  them. 

"  Anything  that's  homey,  ma'am,"  pleaded  George. 
«  We " 

But  Terry  fairly  screeched. 

"  Ma !  Jiminy  whillikens !  Say  —  aren't  you  my 
mother?" 

"Why,  Terry  Richards!  What  are  you  doing 
here?" 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  "  retorted  Terry,  as 
they  rushed  together  and  hugged. 

"  We're  on  the  U.  P.,  too.     We're " 

From  the  kitchen  another  woman  hurried  in,  her 
hands  all  flour,  to  find  out  what  was  going  on.  And 
George  shouted  and  charged. 

"  There's  my  mother.     Hooray !  " 

"  For  goodness'  sake !  " 

"  Never  mind  your  hands,  ma.     I'm  dirty,  anyhow." 

And  she  didn't;  he  didn't,  either. 

"Well,  well,  well!  We  thought  one  of  you  was 
out  at  end  of  track  and  the  other  was  surveying." 

"  So  we  were.  We  just  got  into  town.  And  we 
thought  you  were  down  at  Denver." 


1 64          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

"  So  we  were.  And  we've  just  got  in,  too  —  only 
two  or  three  days  ago.  We've  hardly  opened  up  for 
business,  yet." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do?  " 

"  Run  a  nice  little  restaurant." 

"But  you  can't,  ma,"  Terry  objected.  "These 
railroad  towns  are  awful  tough  towns,  at  first." 

"  Yes,  we  can.  As  soon  as  the  men  find  out  that 
we're  ladies,  and  serve  such  good  food,  they'll  treat 
us  all  right,  we're  sure.  We  haven't  had  a  bit  of 
trouble,  so  far.  We  won't  serve  a  great  variety,  but 
what  we  do  serve  will  be  real  home  cooking." 

"Does  dad  know  about  it?" 

"  Not  a  word,  and  I  don't  want  him  to  know  till 
the  track  gets  here.  Then  we'll  surprise  him." 

"  But,  ma !  We'll  all  be  going  on  again.  We  won't 
be  here  very  long,  maybe.  You  both  can't  stay  in 
Cheyenne,  running  a  restaurant." 

"  We  don't  intend  to,"  laughed  his  mother,  briskly. 
"  We're  going  on  with  you  —  clear  through,  with  the 
U.  P.  Aren't  we,  Mrs.  Stanton !  " 

"  Indeed  we  are.  We'll  hire  somebody  to  pack  our 
things,  each  time  the  town  moves.  And  at  every  new 
town  you  boys  and  your  fathers  (I  only  hope  George's 
father  will  be  near)  will  know  just  where  to  get  some- 
thing good  to  eat.  Oh,  we'll  watch  after  you." 

Now  there  was  another  interruption.  She  was  a 
girl,  George's  sister.  He  called  her  his  "  little  "  sister, 
but  she  was  growing  faster  than  he. 

"Hello,  Virgie!" 

Virgie  stared. 


TWO  ON  THE  SCOUT  TRAIL          165 

"It's  no  fair!''  she  accused.  "We  aren't  ready. 
We  wanted  to  surprise  you." 

"  Well,  I  should  say  you  did  surprise  us,"  Terry 
comforted.  "  We  didn't  know  what  the  Home  Cook- 
ing restaurant  was." 

"  Where's  Shep?  "  Virgie  asked. 

Terry  sobered. 

"  We'll  tell  you  about  Shep.  We've  got  a  lot  to 
tell." 

"Do  we  have  pie  for  breakfast,  ma?"  prompted 
George.  "  General  Casement  gave  us  a  meal  pass, 
for  here;  and  Superintendent  Reed  said  to  be  sure  to 
try  the  apple  pie." 

"  Oh,  those  two  men ! "  scoffed  Mrs.  Stanton. 
"  They've  almost  eaten  us  out.  Yes,  you  can  have 
apple  pie  for  breakfast,  if  you  want  it.  Luckily  we've 
got  some  fresh  in  the  oven." 

"  That's  what  we  smelled,  George,"  Terry  exclaimed 
triumphantly. 

"  We  leave  the  door  open  on  purpose,  when  we're 
cooking,"  explained  Virgie. 

"  Do  you  like  Cheyenne,  Virgie?  "  Terry  asked,  as 
the  two  mothers  bustled  to  gather  breakfast  together. 

"  No ;  it's  too  dirty  and  noisy.  But  I  sha'n't  stay 
here.  When  Uncle  Ralph  (that  was  Terry's  father)' 
brings  his  engine  in,  I'm  going  to  ride  up  and  down 
the  track  on  it,  all  the  time." 

"  Breakfast  will  be  ready  in  a  minute,"  called  his 
mother.  "  You  can  wash  out  here  in  the  kitchen  ; 
and  you  and  George  can  be  telling  us  about  your 
fathers  and  about  yourselves,  and  everything." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

SET   FOR   THE   GREAT   RACE 

END  o'  TRACK,  again!  With  the  secret  of  the 
Home  Cooking  restaurant  kept  close  from  Engine 
Driver  Richards;  with  Pat  Miles  urging  the  work, 
and  the  red-shirted,  gray-shirted,  blue-shirted  Irish 
track-layers  and  spikers  and  ballasters  sweating,  and 
the  sledges  whanging,  and  the  truck-loads  of  rails 
hauled  by  Jimmie  Muldoon  and  brother  astride  horse 
and  yellow  mule  rumbling  up,  and  the  puffing  con- 
struction-train constantly  elbowing  the  boarding-train 
out  of  the  way,  and  the  cheery  song  breaking  forth 
ever  and  anon: 

"  Drill,  my  paddies,  drill ! 
Drill,  you  tarriers,  drill ! 
Oh,  it's  work  all  day, 
No  sugar  in  your  tay  — 
Wor-rkin'  on  th'  U.  Pay.  Ra-a-ailway !  ' 

"  So  it's  fur  out  into  the  desert  yez  have  been, 
is  it?"  asked  Pat,  at  lay-off  the  first  evening. 

"  That's  what,  Pat.  " 

"  An'  nigh  died,  one  o'  yez.  Well,  well !  Is  that 
the  kind  o'  country?  But  no  matter.  Yez  didn't  see 
anything  o'  the  Cintral,  did  yez  ?  " 

"  We  should  say  not !  They're  still  in  California, 
more  than  a  thousand  miles  west." 

166 


SET  FOR  THE  GREAT  RACE    167 

"  Sure,  what's  a  thousand  miles,  to  a  U.  Pay.  man? 
First  thing  they  know,  we'll  be  bumpin'  their  Chiny 
dagoes  off'n  the  right  o'  way.  Is  it  true  they  got 
10,000  of  'em  a-workin'  wid  white  man's  picks  an' 
shovels?" 

"  Shouldn't  wonder,  Pat." 

Pat  sighed. 

"  Ah,  well.  Nobody  but  an  Irishman  can  handle  a 
pick  —  yes,  an'  a  shillaly,  too.  Wid  them  two  weapons 
we'll  dig  to  Chiny  itself.  We've  had  a  hard  time  wid 
the  Injuns,  since  you  left,  Terry,  me  boy;  but  now 
we're  hittin'  our  stride  ag'in  an'  we'll  not  stop  till  we're 
atop  them  Black  Hills  yonder,  where  we  can  take  a 
squint  over  at  the  country  beyant." 

The  rails  went  forward,  but  Terry  had  found  him- 
self promoted  from  rail-hauler  on  the  back  of  old 
yellow  Jenny  (and  he  did  hate  to  leave  Jenny)  to 
time-checker  on  the  back  of  a  horse :  his  business  to 
ride  along  among  the  work  gangs  and  get  their  time, 
for  report  to  the  Casement  pay-master. 

And  George  was  settled  as  a  clerk  in  the  pay-car 
that  weekly  trundled  up  and  back. 

The  Indian  troubles  were  thought  to  be  quieted.  A 
big  treaty  council  had  been  held,  and  another  was  to 
follow,  between  the  Sioux  and  Cheyennes  and  the 
United  States.  At  any  rate,  the  job  of  riding  the  line 
and  visiting  the  near  grading  camps  was  not  so  danger- 
ous as  it  might  have  been  earlier  in  the  season.  Also, 
it  was  very  pleasant,  when  Cheyenne  and  the  Home 
Cooking  restaurant  drew  nearer  to  end  o'  track. 

The    rails    were    marching    on.     Thirty    miles    to 


1 68          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

Cheyenne,  twenty  miles  to  Cheyenne,  fifteen  miles  to 
Cheyenne,  and  ten,  and  five  and  two  —  and  one  more 
day's  work  and  there  they'd  be. 

There  they  were,  on  November  13,  this  1867:  plant- 
ing mile-post  517,  and  welcomed  by  a  great  crowd, 
and  a  band,  and  a  lot  of  flags  and  bunting,  with  the 
Lincoln  car  carrying  the  Government  inspectors  press- 
ing after  and  accepting  the  track  as  far  as  mile-post 
490,  only  some  twenty-five  miles  behind.  Yes,  it  was 
a  well-built  road. 

This  evening  Terry  guided  his  father  up-town,  and 
another  reunion  occurred,  celebrated  with  plenty  of  pie 
and  hot  doughnuts. 

Into  the  new  terminal  station  the  telegraph  poles 
advanced.  The  pay-car  moved  up,  bringing  the  eager 
George.  Then  came  the  procession :  Casement 
Brothers'  take-down  warehouse  and  orrices,  and  the 
gamblers'  tents  and  the  side-shows  and  saloons,  which 
had  been  only  waiting,  at  Julesburg.  Cheyenne  rapidly 
swelled  to  3,000  people,  for  now  the  news  had  passed 
that  it  was  to  be  the  winter  quarters  of  the  railroad. 
The  Overland  Stage  changed  its  terminal,  also,  to  keep 
with  the  gang,  and  put  on  a  run  between  Denver  and 
Cheyenne. 

There  was  nothing  but  the  station  left  at  Julesburg, 
the  five  months  "  wickedest  town  in  America  " :  noth- 
ing but  the  station  and  a  mess  of  cans  and  other  rub- 
bish. Cheyenne,  the  "  Magic  City  of  the  Plains,"  had 
swallowed  it. 

On  the  very  next  day  after  the  arrival  of  end  o' 
track,  the  passenger  trains  began  to  roll  in.  The  first 


SET  FOR  THE  GREAT  RACE    169 

brought  a  brimming  excursion  from  the  East.  This 
meant  another  jollification,  with  speeches  by  the  mayor 
and  by  Mr.  Sidney  Dillon,  president  of  the  U.  P. 
board  of  directors,  and  by  little  General  Casement, 
"  champion  track-layer  of  the  continent,"  and  others. 
Town  lots  that  the  company  had  sold  for  $150  were 
being  resold  for  as  high  as  $2,500. 

The  end  o'  track  did  not  pause  here  long.  As  soon 
as  switches  and  side-tracks  enough  had  been  laid  the 
rails  hastened  onward,  for  the  Black  Hills. 

"  We'll  ate  our  Christmas  dinner  atop,  boys,"  Pat 
cheered.  "  An'  from  yon,  8,000  feet  in  the  air,  we'll 
shake  our  fists  at  the  Cintral  haythen,  over  beyant 
in  Calif orny.  'Twill  be  better  that,  than  shakin'  'em 
under  each  other's  noses  here  in  this  new  roarin'  town 
which  is  like  to  be  the  greediest  yet  after  your  money." 

The  work  grew  harder.  The  winds  of  November 
and  December  blew  fiercely,  sweeping  the  sand  and 
gravel  and  snow  into  the  men's  faces;  Crow  Creek 
froze,  the  water  had  to  be  hauled  from  holes  chopped 
through  the  ice,  there  were  days  when  the  laying  had 
to  quit  entirely,  until  the  grade  was  scraped  clear.  And 
the  climb  and  curves  and  cu-ts  would  have  slowed  the 
march  even  in  summer. 

General  Dodge  was  back  from  his  exploring  trip  into 
the  far  west.  He  had  taken  his  company  through  to 
Salt  Lake,  and  then  east  again  by  a  northern  route. 
He  had  found  no  survey  better  than  the  Percy  Browne 
lines;  the  road  was  to  run  through  the  Red  Basin. 

"  To  Fort  Sanders  was  the  plan  o'  him  an'  Gin'ral 
Casement,"  said  Pat.  "  Two  hundred  an'  eighty-eight 


i;o          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

miles  for  the  year,  that  is.  But  we're  like  to  fall  short 
o'  that  an'  we'll  rist  content  when  we've  planted  post 
540  at  the  top  o'  the  grade.  'Twill  be  500  miles  o' 
track  laid  in  two  seasons  o'  twelve  months  altogether  — 
near  sixty  miles  a  month  —  two  miles  a  workin'  day, 
ain't  it,  week  in  an'  week  out?  B'gorry,  I  call  that 
purty  good,  meself,  an'  the  Cintral  bunch  o'  pig-tails 
can  put  the  figgers  in  their  pipes  an'  smoke  'em." 

Therefore  at  the  close  of  December  the  track  and 
grading  gangs  knocked  off  for  the  winter,  with  end  o' 
track  almost  to  the  top,  and  only  ten  miles  this  side 
of  Sherman  Summit. 

The  pay-car  pulled  in,  to  pay  off  the  men.  General 
Dodge,  General  Casement,  Superintendent  Reed,  and 
other  officials  came,  for  the  last  inspection  of  the  year. 
While  the  men  were  gathering  their  tools,  to  board 
their  train  and  "  leave  the  job,"  Terry  and  George  and 
Pat  rode  horseback  up  the  grade  to  the  top,  for  a  view. 

Snow  whitened  the  pass,  changing  the  Black  Hills 
to  white;  a  wind  always  blew,  up  here,  and  the  air 
was  cutting  cold.  The  curves  of  the  roadbed  hid  the 
boarding-train  and  end  o'  track,  behind,  but  farther 
in  the  east,  and  below,  might  be  seen  Cheyenne,  sprawl- 
ing on  the  drear  plains,  with  the  rails  apparently  span- 
ning the  distance  to  it.  Southwest  seventy-five  miles 
there  uplifted  hoary  Long's  Peak,  the  northernmost 
sentinel  of  the  Colorado  Rockies;  'twas  claimed  that 
on  a  clear  day  you  could  see  even  the  celebrated  Pike's 
Peak,  the  southernmost  sentinel,  150  miles  by  air  line. 
Northwest,  about  100  miles,  beckoned  the  great,  lone 
Elk  Mountain,  at  the  western  end  of  the  Laramie 
Plains. 


SET  FOR  THE  GREAT  RACE    171 

In  that  direction  Pat  gazed  —  they  all  gazed,  with 
watering  eyes.  Pat  sighed. 

"  Sure,"  he  said,  "  'tis  a  weary  march,  yet,  rail  by 
rail,  twenty-eight  feet  by  twenty-eight  feet,  across 
them  plains,  an'  across  the  waterless  desert,  an'  across 
the  snow  mountains,  and  down  to  Salt  Lake,  an'  on, 
ever  on,  into  the  west,  for  twice  the  distance  we've 
come  already.  But  we'll  make  it,  lads.  Aye,  we'll 
make  it,  if  we  finish  on  our  hands  an'  knees.  I  hear 
tell  there  be  folks  back  in  the  States  who  say  that  no 
head  of  a  day  cent-size  family  will  live  to  see  the  iron 
horse  crossin'  continent  from  the  Atlantic  to  the 
Paycific.  They  say  he'll  die  of  old  age,  before.  But 
I,  Paddy  Miles,  construction  foreman  o'  Casement 
Brothers,  a-layin'  the  U.  Pay.  tracks,  say  that  afore 
the  Irishmen  on  the  right  o'  way  have  grown  whiskers, 
the  smart-alicks  themselves'll  be  ridin'  on  passes  (if 
they  can  get  'em)  from  Chicago  to  'Frisco  widout 
change  o'  cars."  He  turned  his  horse.  "  Come  on 
back  now.  We'll  winter  in  Cheyenne,  an'  be  ready  to 
start  in  fresh  on  the  job  by  the  time  the  wild  geese  are 
flyin',  in  the  spring." 

"  Hurrah  for  the  U.  P. !  "  uttered  George.  "  But 
what  I  want  to  know  next  is,  what  has  the  C.  P.  done  ?  " 

"Well,  they  ain't  been  loafin',  b'gorry,"  Pat  as- 
sured. ''  They've  been  workin',  whilst  hangin'  on  by 
their  toes." 

And  that  was  so.  In  1866  the  U.  P.  had  laid  260 
miles  of  track;  the  C.  P.  only  thirty-eight.  This  year 
the  U.  P.'s  record  was  240  miles  -  •"  an'  ivery  mile  a 
fight,"  as  Pat  said;  the  C.  P.  record  was  only  forty-six 


172          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

miles  —  but  such  miles,  according  to  the  California 
and  Salt  Lake  newspapers! 

It  was  a  thrilling  story.  The  Central  Pacific  people 
had  started  in  7,000  feet  up,  at  the  top  of  the  Sierra 
Nevada  Range.  They  had  had  to  haul  their  rails  and 
other  supplies  over  snowy  grades  of  ninety  and  100 
feet  to  the  mile  —  one  grade  was  the  limit  of  1 16  feet 
to  the  mile !  It  took  two  of  the  most  powerful  engines 
yet  built,  to  each  construction-train;  the  snow  was 
fifteen  feet  deep  on  the  level,  and  half  of  the  graders 
had  to  spend  their  time  shoveling  it  off  the  roadbed. 
The  track  could  not  get  over  the  top,  on  account  of  the 
grade,  and  the  snow  there  twenty  to  100  feet  deep, 
so  it  went  through,  by  a  tunnel  a  third  of  a  mile  long, 
drilled  into  solid  granite  rock,  and  blasted  out  with 
powder.  Some  of  the  charges  blew  3,000  tons  of  rock 
into  fragments  at  one  whack  —  and  rocks  weighing 
over  200  pounds  were  sent  flying  over  half  a  mile. 
The  powder  expense  for  one  month  was  $54,000. 

The  company  could  not  wait  to  get  their  engines 
and  rails  by  ship  around  Cape  Horn,  so  they  were 
ordering  them  by  the  railroad  across  the  Isthmus  of 
Panama  —  a  short-cut.  The  freight  bill  on  one  loco- 
motive was  $8,100;  and  two  of  the  giant  engines  had 
cost  the  company,  when  delivered,  $70,752! 

Forty  miles  of  snow-sheds,  of  heavy  timber,  were 
necessary,  so  that  the  road  should  not  be  snowed  under 
completely.  There  was  to  be  one  snow-shed  over 
twenty  miles  long!  There  was  a  tremendous  amount 
of  high  trestles,  as  well  as  a  tremendous  amount  of 
chiseling  and  blasting  to  make  a  roadbed  in  the  faces 
of  the  precipices. 


SET  FOR  THE  GREAT  RACE    173 

Twenty-five  saw-mills  were  busy,  turning  out  timbers 
and  ties.  Ten  thousand  Chinamen  had  been  engaged, 
as  graders  and  track-layers.  They  were  paid  $30  a 
month  —  or  a  dollar  a  day,  including  Sundays  —  and 
furnished  their  own  meals.  They  worked  so  close  and 
with  such  system  that  in  a  space  of  250  feet  there 
sometimes  were  thirty  carts  and  250  graders,  all  as 
busy  as  bees.  White  men  could  not  be  depended  upon ; 
the  white  laborers  were  always  being  tempted  away,  to 
the  gold  and  silver  mines. 

The  Central  Pacific  Company  had  not  waited  to 
finish  the  big  tunnel,  or  shovel  off  the  snow.  They 
had  sent  several  thousand  men  on  ahead,  in  wagons, 
twenty  miles  over  and  down,  to  work  where  the  snow 
was  lighter.  They  had  loaded  a  locomotive,  taken 
apart,  and  forty  miles  of  rails  and  bolts  and  spikes, 
upon  wagons,  and  sent  them  over,  too. 

So  that  while  the  tunnel  was  being  drilled  and 
blasted,  and  the  grading  done  beyond,  the  advance 
gangs  were  building,  also.  On  December  13  the  tracks 
had  descended  the  mountain  as  far  as  the  Nevada 
line;  were  getting  down  into  the  foothills,  and  early 
in  the  spring  would  be  amidst  the  sage-brush  of  the 
Nevada  desert,  with  an  open  way  to  Salt  Lake! 

"  Gee !  We  fellows'll  have  to  hustle,"  George  re- 
marked, after  he  and  Terry  had  succeeded  in  reading 
the  tattered  newspapers,  passed  around  at  Cheyenne. 
"  They've  got  600  miles  yet  to  go,  but  it's  level ;  we've 
got  500  miles,  and  we're  just  starting  in  on  the 
mountains." 

"  That  Nevada  desert  country  is  fierce,  though.     No 


174          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

good  water  for  miles  and  miles,  and  lots  of  loose  sand 
and  soda  and  alkali.  Injuns,  too  —  the  Diggers  and 
Snakes.  Our  engineers  have  been  across  it  sur- 
veying." 

"  Can't  be  worse  than  our  Red  Desert,"  retorted 
George  —  who  had  been  there,  himself.  "  And  we've 
got  the  Wasatch  Mountains,  besides." 

"  Just  the  samee,  I'll  bet  on  the  Irish.  We'll  beat 
the  Chinks  into  Salt  Lake,  and  we'll  meet  'em  while 
they're  still  coming,"  Terry  answered  hopefully. 
"  You  watch  our  smoke,  boy,  as  soon  as  spring  opens. 
The  Northwestern  Railway  is  into  Council  Bluffs 
across  from  Omaha,  you  know ;  we  don't  have  to  haul 
our  stuff  by  wagon  and  boat  any  more  —  we  get  the 
rails  quick,  right  off  the  cars.  We've  got  plenty  tim- 
ber close  to  the  line,  in  the  Black  Hills,  for  ties,  and  the 
tie  camps  are  cutting  and  sawing  now.  We're  graded 
already  clear  ahead  to  Sanders  on  the  other  side  of 
the  Black  Hills,  and  the  surveys  are  about  finished 
from  here  to  Salt  Lake.  Do  you  know  how  many 
miles  those  engineers  have  covered  since  April  ?  Three 
thousand,  three  hundred  and  ten!  I  reckon  General 
Dodge  has  everything  mapped,  and  sees  just  what  he's 
going  to  do." 

"They  say  the  company's  plumb  out  of  money.  We 
lost,  at  only  $16,000  a  mile  across  the  plains.  Had  to 
do  too  much  hauling  at  long  distance." 

"  Well,  I  guess  the  Central  didn't  make  much  money, 
at  $48,003  a  mile  in  those  mountains ;  and  look  at  the 
freight  bills  they've  been  paying.  Now  we  get  our 
$48,000  a  mile,  for  easy  grading;  and  after  that,  $32,- 


SET  FOR  THE  GREAT  RACE    175 

ooo  a  mile.  The  U.  P. '11  raise  enough  to  start  on 
again." 

And  evidently  this  was  to  be  the  case.  General 
Dodge  went  to  New  York,  for  a  company  meeting. 
After  he  had  explained  the  route,  and  had  shown  the 
maps  of  the  surveys,  the  company  told  him  to  go  ahead 
as  fast  as  he  could. 

It  was  a  busy  winter  in  Cheyenne.  Supplies  of  rails 
and  spikes  and  bolts  and  other  iron  ammunition  poured 
in  as  rapidly  as  the  trains  could  bring  them.  Tons 
and  tons  —  thousands  of  tons  —  were  stacked  in  the 
Casement  Bros/  warehouses.  And  out  along  the  line 
over  the  Black  Hills,  and  down,  and  away  into  the 
Laramie  Plains  huge  piles  of  ties  and  culvert  and 
bridge  timbers  were  being  collected. 

Cheyenne  boomed.  It  had  3,000  buildings  and  6,000 
people;  and  what  with  the  graders  and  track-layers 
who  wintered  there,  several  of  the  business  firms  were 
selling  goods  to  the  amount  of  $30,000  a  month !  The 
Home  Restaurant  did  a  fine  business,  besides  feeding 
its  "  men  folks." 

Early  in  the  spring  General  Dodge  called  all  the 
chiefs  of  departments  to  meet  him  at  Omaha,  the  U. 
P.  headquarters.  At  the  close  of  the  meeting  the  word 
was  spread: 

The  trail  had  been  decided  upon.  There  was  no 
good  route  through  Salt  Lake  City,  and  around  the 
south  end  of  the  Great  Salt  Lake.  Ogden,  at  the  north 
end  of  the  lake,  thirty-six  miles  north  of  Salt  Lake 
City,  was  to  be  the  Utah  terminal  point.  But  the  en- 
gineers were  to  set  out  at  once,  snow  or  no  snow, 


176  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

mountains  or  no  mountains,  and  run  their  stakes  from 
the  Laramie  Plains  to  Humboldt  Wells  over  200  miles 
west  of  Ogden ! 

The  graders  were  to  start  in  as  soon  as  the  frost  was 
out  of  the  ground  so  that  they  could  dig. 

The  track-layers  were  expected  to  lay  500  miles  of 
track  in  eight  months  —  and  then  keep  going  the  220 
miles  farther,  so  as  to  meet  the  C.  P.  at  Humboldt 
Wells  in  the  next  year,  1869 ! 

"  For  th'  love  o'  Hiven !"  Pat  Miles  gasped,  reading 
the  orders.  "  To  Ogden,  is  it,  500  miles,  t'other  side 
the  snow  range,  at  one  jump  —  an'  220  miles  across  the 
desert,  at  another?  Oh,  well!  Faith  an'  we'll  do  it. 
The  Cintral  have  their  10,000  Chinks,  but  the  U.  Pay. '11 
have  15,000  white  men.  That's  all  we  nade:  men, 
men,  an'  more  men  —  an'  a  bit  o'  money  to  pay  'em 
wid." 

The  additional  men  poured  into  Cheyenne,  like  the 
iron  was  pouring  in.  They  raised  the  population  to 
10,000.  An  army  of  picks  and  spades,  sledges,  ploughs 
and  scrapers  only  awaited  the  word :  "  Forward ! " 
The  surveying  parties  had  gone  at  once.  From  Omaha 
the  chiefs  had  passed  through,  picking  up  their  squads 
on  their  way.  Some  were  camped  on  the  Laramie 
Plains;  some  were  camped  at  Rawlins  Springs  of  the 
high  plateau;  some  were  into  the  Red  Desert;  some 
were  crossing  the  Wasatch  Range  of  Utah  with  sleds, 
over  snow  to  the  tops  of  the  telegraph  poles ;  some  were 
in  the  Nevada  desert  beyond  the  Salt  Lake,  and  facing 
the  Central  engineers.  That  was  George's  father's 
job.  He  had  not  come  in  at  all,  but  had  wintered  at 
Salt  Lake  and  Ogden. 


SET  FOR  THE  GREAT  RACE    177 

It  was  to  be  the  greatest  race  ever  run  on  the  Amer- 
ican continent.  Every  mile  gained  meant  $48,000  or 
$32,000;  it  meant  also  a  grant  of  land  twenty  miles 
deep  on  either  side  of  the  tracks;  and  it  meant  beating 
the  other  fellow. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE   "  TARRIERS  "    MAKE  A   RECORD 

"  HURRAH  !  Everybody  come  out  to  end  o'  track 
tomorrow.  We're  going  to  throw  a  scare  for  sure 
into  those  Central  gangs." 

That  was  Terry,  bursting  in  through  the  back  door- 
way of  the  Home  Cooking  restaurant,  in  this  last  new 
base  and  division  point,  of  Bryan,  far  western  Wyo- 
ming. Time:  Friday  evening,  late  in  September,  1868. 

"  What  kind  of  a  '  scare/  Terry?  " 

"  Track-laying.  Another  record.  The  Central 
matched  our  six  miles  in  a  day  by  claiming  seven. 
General  Casement  is  out  yonder,  with  General  Corse 
and  a  bunch  of  other  big-bugs,  and  they  're  feeling 
good;  and  tomorrow  General  Casement  is  going  to 
show  us  off  and  put  a  stopper  in  the  Central's  brag." 

"  How  far  away  are  you  now,  boy?  "  George  asked. 

"  Eighteen  miles.  They're  setting  mile-post  877, 
at  a  side-station  named  Granger.  We've  just 
crossed  the  line  into  Utah  (for  Utah  had  not  yet  lost 
so  much  of  its  northeast  corner)  and  that's  one  reason 
we  celebrate.  Pat  says  he'll  lay  eight  miles  as  a 
mark  for  the  *  C.  Pay.  haythen'  to  aim  at." 

"  I  don't  believe  it  can  be  done,"  Terry's  father 
declared. 

"  Yes,  it  can.  Sure  it  can.  Look  at  what  we've 
been  laying  right  along  in  the  desert:  two  and  three 

178 


THE  "TARRIERS"  MAKE  A  RECORD      179 

miles,  and  four,  and  once  six,  in  mighty  bad  country." 
"  I'll  be  there,  Terry,"  Virgie  cried.     "  I  want  to 


see." 


What  a  spring  and  summer  that  had  been!  And 
what  a  fall  and  winter  it  was  to  be!  The  great  race 
was  in  full  swing. 

In  middle  April  the  U.  P.  track  layers  had  finally 
broken  loose  from  winter  quarters  in  Cheyenne,  and 
since  then  they  had  not  wasted  a  day. 

At  the  start,  the  grade  had  not  yet  been  clear  of 
snow,  nor  the  ground  thawed,  and  it  took  twenty-four 
days  to  make  thirty-three  miles  to  the  Laramie  River 
just  below  Fort  Sanders  across  the  Black  Hills. 

A  third  of  Cheyenne  flocked  here,  to  the  new  base 
named  Laramie  City.  Even  before  the  track  got  in, 
Laramie  City  boasted  the  title  "  Gem  City  of  the 
Mountains,"  had  500  shacks  and  3,000  people,  and 
was  "  roaring."  The  freight  trains  were  close  behind 
end  o'  track,  and  the  passenger  trains  from  Omaha 
began  to  roll  in  again. 

In  rolled,  on  wheels,  the  Cheyenne  take-down  build- 
ings and  the  gambling  and  saloon  and  side-show  out- 
fits—  and  among  the  very  first  of  all  the  outfits  to 
report,  was  the  Home  Cooking  restaurant.  It  had 
proved  so  popular  that,  as  George  said,  it  was  given 
a  "  front  seat." 

Terry  and  his  father,  at  the  farther  front,  were 
glad  indeed  to  welcome  it.  But  the  grading  gangs 
were  on  ahead,  and  the  track-layer  gang  stayed  only 
long  enough  to  lay  the  switches  and  sidings.  Then 
the  rails  leaped  forward,  on  the  trail. 


i8o          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

"  Tis  a  long  way  yet  to  the  ind  o'  the  500  miles, 
lads,"  reminded  Paddy;  and  with  him  urging,  and 
extra  wages  promised  for  Sundays  and  holidays,  the 
track-layers  scarcely  straightened  their  backs  except 
at  darkness. 

The  track  flew  through  the  length  of  the  Laramie 
Plains  and  found  a  bridge  ready  at  the  North  Platte 
River  almost  on  the  very  spot  where  young  Engineer 
Appleton  had  swung  across  with  the  news  of  Percy 
Browne's  death.  Leaping  the  river  the  rails  paused 
to  plant  another  terminal  and  supply  base  just  beyond 
brand-new  Fort  Steele. 

One  hundred  and  twenty-six  miles  in  sixty  days. 

That  was  doing  better "  But  we're  a  bit  soft 

still,"  Pat  apologized. 

The  supply  base  was  named  Benton.  It  proved  to 
be  the  "  roaringest  "  town  yet  —  a  seething  town  of 
red  dust,  of  North  Platte,  Julesburg,  Cheyenne  and 
Laramie  gamblers  and  saloon  keepers,  and  of  night 
turned  into  day.  The  river  was  three  miles  away,  east, 
and  water  for  the  town  people  had  to  be  hauled  by 
wagons,  price  ten  cents  a  bucket;  but  many  of  the 
inhabitants  cared  little  for  water. 

Benton  grew  in  a  twinkling  to  5,000  citizens;  take- 
down business  blocks  were  put  together  and  set  up  in 
a  day;  it  was  said  that  two  boys  with  screw-drivers 
could  set  up  an  imitation  "  brown-stone  front "  house 
(which  arrived  all  boxed  and  numbered),  in  three 
hours.  One  gambler  outfit  ran  the  Big  Tent  —  a 
canvas  building  100  feet  long  and  forty  feet  wide,  and 
floored  for  dancing.  But  in  three  months  Benton  was 
less  than  Julesburg;  there  was  not  even  a  station. 


THE  "TARRIERS"  MAKE  A  RECORD      181 

For  the  rails  had  again  sprinted.  They  passed 
right  through  the  ravine  of  Rawlins  Spring,  dipped 
down  into  the  Red  Desert  at  the  place  where  George 
and  the  rest  of  the  Bates  party  had  been  rescued,  and 
following  the  Percy  Browne  survey  they  never  stopped 
for  water  or  anything.  The  construction-train  brought 
the  water  from  behind,  in  tanks,  until  wells  were 
drilled;  wagons  carried  it  forward  to  the  grading 
gangs.  Much  of  the  water  was  rank  with  alkali  and 
soda;  it  made  the  men  ill,  and  foamed  and  encrusted 
in  the  engine  boilers;  but  the  Red  Desert  had  no  ter- 
rors for  the  U.  P.  gangs. 

Long  before,  the  reconnoitering  surveyors,  led  by 
the  division  chief,  had  picked  out  the  landmarks  of 
hills  and  streams,  as  guides  for  the  location  surveyors. 
The  location  surveyors  pressed  after,  with  their  maps 
and  charts,  to  drive  the  stakes  —  at  four,  eight, 
twelve  miles  a  day.  Eating  the  stakes,  100  miles  at 
a  mouthful,  the  grading  gangs,  8,000  and  10,000 
strong,  tried  to  keep  fifty  miles  ahead  of  end  o'  track. 
In  their  rear,  ten  and  twenty  miles  ahead  of  end  o' 
track,  the  bridge  crews  and  culvert  crews  plied  ham- 
mer and  saw.  Behind  them,  and  four  or  five  miles 
ahead  of  end  o'  track,  the  tie-layers  and  ballasters 
tugged  and  tamped.  And  end  o'  track  pursued  with 
500  other  men  and  fifty  teams. 

In  a  perfect  cloud  the  freight  and  supply  wagons 
toiled  back  and  forth  beside  the  grade.  They  formed 
a  line  of  alkali  dust  150  miles  long,  stirred  up  by  the 
hoofs  of  5,000  horses  and  mules.  And  east  of  end 
o'  track  were  the  puffing  boarding-train  and  the  busy 


1 82  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

construction-train,  while  Jimmie  Muldoon  and  his  lit- 
tle brother  dashed  down  and  back,  fetching  the  loads 
of  rails. 

The  Red  Desert  never  had  seen  the  like.  In  fact, 
the  whole  United  States  was  getting  excited.  Every 
night  the  news  was  flashed  by  telegraph  to  New  York : 
"  The  Union  Pacific  today  laid  two  (or  three,  or  five) 
miles  of  track,"  and  it  was  published  in  large  head- 
lines across  the  first  pages  of  the  New  York  papers. 

General  Casement  lived  constantly  at  the  front; 
his  brother  Dan  Casement  worked  day  and  night  mov- 
ing the  supplies  out  of  the  warehouses.  General  Dodge 
made  trip  after  trip  from  Omaha  and  by  stage  and 
horse  across  the  mountains,  even  clear  to  Humboldt 
Wells  of  Nevada.  Mr.  Silas  Seymour,  the  New  York 
consulting  engineer,  was  out;  so  were  Mr.  Hoxie  and 
Mr.  Snyder,  who  had  charge  of  the  operating  of  the 
road,  from  Omaha.  And  in  mid-summer  there  had 
come  a  very  distinguished  party  indeed,  who  inspected 
from  Fort  Sanders  to  end  o'  track. 

These  were  General  U.  S.  Grant,  himself,  the  chief 
of  the  Army ;  General  Sherman,  General  Phil  Sheridan, 
half  a  dozen  other  famous  'way-up  army  officers,  Mr. 
Thomas  C.  Durant,  of  New  York,  the  vice-president 
of  the  Union  Pacific  company  and  the  man  who  raised 
the  funds;  and  Mr.  Sidney  Dillon,  again  —  the 
chairman  of  the  board  of  directors. 

They  rode  in  a  special  Pullman  car,  and  the  track- 
layer gang  eased  up  long  enough  to  cheer  them  as 
they  tumbled  out  and  gazed  about. 

The  Lincoln  car  was  being  kept  busy  chasing  the  con- 


THE  "  TARRIERS  "  MAKE  A  RECORD      183 

struction,  and  accepting  the  track  in  sections  of  twenty 
to  forty  miles  at  a  time,  for  the  Government. 

End  o'  track  traveled  too  rapidly  for  it.  Far  west- 
ward, in  western  Nevada  the  Central  was  putting  in 
its  best  licks,  too.  One  day  its  track  gang  laid  five 
miles  of  rails,  and  wired  the  news  to  New  York,  as 
a  record.  Pat  was  told,  and  grunted;  and  that  same 
week  the  U.  P.  gang  laid  six  miles  in  a  day.  The 
Central  heard,  and  retorted  by  laying  seven  miles  at 
one  rush. 

"An'  what  o'  that?"  growled  Pat  "  Sivin,  you 
say  ?  Wait  till  we  get  our  toes  set  in  a  likely  place,  an' 
we'll  hand  'em  eight,  as  sugar  for  their  tay." 

In  the  middle  of  September  another  supply  base  had 
been  planted  —  Green  River,  150  miles  from  Benton, 
and  845  miles  from  Omaha. 

Three  hundred  miles  of  track,  counting  sidings,  laid 
in  five  months  of  mainly  "  bad  weather  an'  worse 
wather,"  as  Paddy  said.  Average,  sixty  miles  a 
month.  The  news  was  flashed  to  New  York. 

When  the  pay-car  pulled  in  once  more,  Terry  and 
George  celebrated  again  in  the  Home  Cooking  restau- 
rant. Pat  himself  was  well  pleased.  So  were  Gen- 
eral Dodge  and  General  Casement.  That  had  been  a 
hard  stint,  in  the  desert,  but  the  desert  was  conquered. 

Only  a  thousand  people  gathered  at  Green  River. 
End  o'  track  was  traveling  too  fast  also  for  some  of 
the  toughs  who  sought  to  make  "  roaring  "  towns  — 
and  some  of  them  had  been  killed  on  this  westward 
trail.  But  the  Home  Cooking  restaurant  bravely  kept 
up  the  march. 


184          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

It  was  a  great  institution  —  this  Home  Cooking 
restaurant.  The  two  women  were  being  called  the 
"  Heroines  of  the  U.  P."  Everybody  respected  them, 
and  they  still  did  a  splendid  business  in  good  coffee 
and  pies  and  doughnuts  — "  like  your  mother  used 
to  make."  But  Terry  and  George  had  the  suspicion 
that  they  stuck  it  out  on  purpose  to  make  a  home  for 
their  men-folk. 

George,  because  he  was  attached  to  the  pay-car, 
which  had  its  headquarters  in  the  terminals,  drew  the 
big  end  of  the  bargain.  He  might  eat  and  sleep  "  at 
home  "  almost  every  night.  His  father,  though,  out 
on  survey,  didn't  get  in  at  all. 

As  for  Terry,  he  and  his  father  came  in  every  night, 
as  long  as  they  might,  between  terminals.  Old  1 19  and 
its  crew  —  Engineer  Richards  and  Fireman  Sweeny 
—  had  been  transferred  from  the  boarding-train  to 
the  leading  construction-train ;  and  this  was  great, 
because  while  they  were  within  twenty  miles  of  the 
terminal  they  could  scoot  back,  for  supper  and  break- 
fast and  a  visit. 

Virgie  was  having  the  time  of  her  life,  riding  up 
and  down  track  in  the  engine  —  bent  upon  being  the 
"  first  passenger  across,"  she  insisted. 

Green  River  did  not  last  long.  It  was  the  best  built 
of  any  of  the  roaring  towns;  quite  a  number  of  its 
buildings  were  adobe,  or  dried  clay,  put  up  to  stay  and 
to  be  warm  winter  quarters ;  but  the  railroad  decided 
to  locate  its  division  point  farther  on,  and  staked  out 
another  town,  Bryan,  fourteen  miles. 

The  bridge  over  the  Green  River  was  waiting;  the 


THE  "  TARRIERS  "  MAKE  A  RECORD      185 

Red  Desert  and  the  Bitter  Creek  Desert  had  been 
crossed  at  last;  the  Wasatch  Mountains  ahead  were 
already  whitened  by  the  first  snows;  and  presently 
Green  River  town  was  left  behind,  deserted.  Every- 
body —  including  the  Home  Cooking  restaurant  — 
moved  on  to  Bryan,  and  Bryan  "  roared." 

"  I'll  go  to  end  o'  track  tomorrow  with  you,  Terry. 
I  want  to  see/'  repeated  Virgie. 

"Til  be  there,  as  usual,"  Terry's  father  laughed, 
grinning.  "  You  can't  lose  Virgie  and  me  and  1 19." 

"  It's  pay-day.  So  I'll  be  there  with  the  pay-car, 
you  can  bet,"  George  asserted. 

"  Well,  you  want  to  start  mighty  early,  then,  or  we'll 
be  out  of  sight,"  bragged  Terry.  "  They'll  begin  at 
seven  sharp  and  work  right  through  to  five-thirty  with 
only  half  an  hour  nooning.  That's  ten  hours.  Can't 
you  come,  ma;  you  and  Mrs.  Stanton?  " 

"  Oh,  dear,  no !    We've  got  people  to  feed." 

"  Maybe  we  can  slip  away  once,  between  times," 
promised  George's  mother. 

"  I  can  take  you  up,  on  one  trip  of  the  construction- 
train,"  Engineer  Richards  proposed.  "  By  the  way 
they  talk,  they'll  keep  me  busy  hauling  iron.  Eight 
miles  of  track  calls  for  something  over  300  car-loads 
of  material,  and  they  haven't  near  enough  iron  on 
their  dumps." 

The  day  dawned  fine  and  snappy.  When  at  six 
o'clock  the  construction-train  pulled  out  with  Terry 
and  Virgie  in  the  cab,  its  cars  were  black  with  people 
as  well  as  rails  and  spikes  and  fastenings.  A  large 
part  of  Bryan  was  bound  to  end  o'  track,  also. 


1 86          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

Paddy  Miles  already  was  busy,  marshalling  his 
gang  on  the  outskirts  of  Granger  siding.  Little  Gen- 
eral Casement,  his  overcoat  collar  turned  up  around 
his  whiskers,  stood  nervously  puffing  a  cigar.  His 
party  of  guests  were  with  him.  The  chief  of  them 
was  Major-General  John  M.  Corse,  an  old  army 
friend.  They  all  had  been  entertained  by  General 
Casement  —  hunting  and  fishing  and  seeing  the 
country,  and  making  the  grading-camps  their  base. 
They  looked  as  though  they'd  had  a  gay  night,  cele- 
brating in  advance;  but  no  amount  of  work  or  fun 
ever  phazed  the  little  general. 

"  Sure,  is  that  your  load  —  mainly  peoples  ?  " 
Pat  hailed,  of  the  cab,  as  he  ran  down  the  line  of  flat 
cars,  inspecting.  "  Get  out  the  way,  iv'ry  wan  o'  yez, 
an'  stand  clear,  or  we'll  be  'atin'  the  iron  from  under 
yez." 

The  boarding-train  stood  upon  the  siding,  to  leave 
the  way  open  for  the  construction-train  to  back  on  up 
in  the  wake  of  the  trucks.  The  trucks  were  loaded 
and  waiting.  Jimmie  Muldoon,  his  face  as  red  as  his 
hair,  with  excitement,  sat  his  bony  horse,  expectant; 
his  brother  (likewise  red)  sat  old  Jenny,  the  rope  taut. 
Old  yellow  Jenny  had  grown  gaunt  and  stiff  in  the 
service;  many  and  many  a  mile  after  mile  had  she 
galloped,  but  she  was  still  game. 

The  long  corrugated  row  of  ties  stretched  westward, 
waiting,  too.  The  nearest  graders  were  staring  back 
as  they  worked,  to  see  the  start.  At  the  very  end  o' 
track  there  was  a  dump  of  iron,  in  readiness.  Every 
little  help  counted. 


THE  "  TARRIERS  "  MAKE  A  RECORD      187 

General  Casement  had  been  looking  at  his  watch. 

"  Go !  "  he  barked. 

"  Lay  to  it,  lads/'  shouted  Pat.  "  We're  off.  Now1 
show  them  Cintral  haythen  a  touch  o'  the  Irish!  " 

"  Hooray !  "  the  crowd  cheered. 

A  file  of  the  men  attacked  the  end  dump.  Two  by 
two  they  seized  the  rails  and  hustled  them  forward,  in 
pairs.  "  Down !  Down !  "  "  Whang,  whang,  whang- 
ity-whang !  "  The  fish-plate  squads  sprang  with  bolts 
and  wrenches.  In  a  few  moments  there  were  two 
streams  of  the  rail-carriers  —  one  double  line  trotting 
forward,  one  double  line  running  back.  End  o'  track 
fairly  leaped  ahead.  The  dump  became  a  far  carry, 
when  at  a  signal  from  Pat  old  Jenny  and  her  truck 
load  came  charging,  with  one-legged  Dennis  riding 
atop  and  Jimmie  Muldoon's  brother  whooping  for 
passage. 

"Hooray!" 

The  truck  was  emptied  rapidly,  as  it  rolled  on,  yard 
by  yard,  to  keep  up  with  the  track.  Now  it  was  tipped 
to  one  side,  and  on  charged  Jimmie  himself  bringing 
fresh  supply.  Back  galloped  old  Jenny. 

General  Casement  was  timing. 

"  Faster,  men,"  he  rapped.  "  Down  with  'em.  Hit 
'em  hard.  Be  ready  with  those  fish-plates,  boys. 
Make  every  move  tell.  We're  out  for  a  record." 

The  men  who  had  been  carrying  the  rails  turned  to 
ballasting.  So  fast  the  track  advanced  that  the  crowd 
of  spectators  were  constantly  jostling  onward,  advanc- 
ing also.  George  arrived,  breathless,  from  the  pay-car. 
Superintendent  Reed  had  come  up  with  it ;  so  had  Dan 
Casement,  the  general's  brother  and  partner. 


1 88  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

"  How  far've  they  gone  now  ?  "  George  panted,  his 
eyes  snapping. 

"  I  dunno.  We've  just  started.  But  look  at  'em 
hustle,  will  yuh !  "  answered  Terry. 

Virgie  danced  impatiently,  craning  and  cheering. 

"I  guess  they'll  lay  ten  miles,  won't  they?"  she 
implored. 

"Aw,  what's  the  matter  with  you?"  George  re- 
buked. "  That's  just  like  a  girl.  No  gang  can  lay 
ten  miles  in  a  day." 

"  Mr.  Pat's  gang  can,  though,  maybe,"  she  retorted. 

The  men  were  sweating.  Steam  rose  from  their 
bended  forms.  Old  Jenny  and  the  truck  horse  were 
sweating,  pushed  at  top  speed  back  and  forth.  The 
clang  of  the  rails  and  the  whang  of  the  sledges  never 
faltered.  End  o'  track  leaped  westward,  toward  the 
distant  graders.  The  dumps  were  melting  and  disap- 
pearing. 

"  Look  out !     Here  comes  the  train !  " 

At  exactly  the  right  moment  old  119,  with  Terry's 
father  and  Fireman  Bill  Sweeny  gazing  rearward  from 
throttle  and  bell,  pushed  the  construction-train  on  up 
over  the  new  track  as  far  as  it  could.  Its  extra  large 
crew  worked  madly  to  throw  the  iron  overboard  into 
more  dumps,  nearer  at  hand. 

Out  puffed  the  train,  gathering  speed,  for  another 
load.  Right  on  its  heels  Jimmie  Muldoon  tore  with 
his  truck,  to  the  farthest  dump  again.  There  was  no 
delay. 

What  with  the  constant  pressing  forward,  all  eyes 
upon  the  rails  as  they  were  laid,  it  was  hard  to  keep 
posted. 


THE  "TARRIERS"  MAKE  A  RECORD      189 

"  How  f ar've  we  gone  now  ?  How  f ar've  we  gone 
now  ?  "  appealed  George,  foolishly. 

"  How  do  I  know  ?  Gee  whiz !  "  Terry  rebuked. 
"  I  forget  where  we  started  from.  You  ought  to  count 
the  truck-loads.  It  takes  about  ten  to  a  mile, 
doesn't  it?" 

"  Yes ;  but  I've  lost  count,"  George  complained. 

"  So've  I,"  confessed  Terry.  "  Anyway,  we're  sure 
traveling.  Granger's  getting  out  of  sight." 

Time  flew  like  the  end  o'  track.  With  shrill  whistle 
the  construction-train  backed  in  again,  ready.  It 
scarcely  seemed  possible  that  the  round  trip  had  been 
made  so  soon.  The  old  dumps  were  vanishing;  the 
last  was  almost  gone ;  on  came  the  train,  rear  end  first ; 
over  went  the  iron,  with  a  noisy  clangor;  and  back 
started  sturdy  119,  dragging  her  rumbling  empties. 

On  her  next  trip  she  brought  Terry's  mother  and 
George's  mother. 

"  Here  come  our  folks/'  George  cried,  spying  them 
as  they  hastened  forward. 

"  How  far  ?  "  they  queried.  That  was  the  universal 
question:  "How  far?" 

"  About  three  miles.  We're  almost  at  the  third  mile- 
stake.  We'll  pass  it  in  a  minute  or  two." 

"  Are  you  coming  back  to  dinner  when  we  go  ?  " 

"  Tisn't  noon  yet,  is  it?" 

"  No,  but  it  will  be  soon." 

"Aw,  shucks!"  Terry  uttered.  "We  can't  leave 
for  dinner.  Not  this  noon.  We'll  eat  here,  with  the 
gang.  We've  got  to  be  on  the  job.  And  so  has 
dad." 


190          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

"  That's  what  he  says,"  sighed  his  mother.  "  But 
seems  to  me  you  can  take  time  to  eat  at  home." 

"  We  couldn't  do  it  in  half  an  hour.  Might  be  miss- 
ing something,"  Terry  explained.  "  There'll  be  plenty 
grub  here." 

"  I'll  stay,"  Virgie  declared.  "  I  don't  want  to  miss 
anything,  either." 

The  busy  Pat  had  glimpsed  them  with  the  corner  of 
an  eye. 

"  Work  hard,  boys,"  he  urged.  "  The  Heroines  o' 
the  U.  Pay.  are  watchin'  yez.  A  fine  big  doughnut 
to  the  crew  that  lays  the  last  pair  o'  rails  in  the  eight 
miles!" 

The  construction-train  emptied.  The  two  mothers 
returned  on  it  to  Bryan.  The  three-mile  stake  had 
been  passed,  and  the  four-mile  stake  was  drawing 
nearer.  General  Casement  had  been  looking  at  his 
watch.  He  was  right  at  end  of  track,  all  the  way  on. 

"Time!  "he  barked. 

"  Toime,  men,"  echoed  Pat. 

They  instantly  quit  work  and  straightened  up 
wearily.  The  general  tucked  his  watch  into  his  pocket. 

"  Three  and  three-quarter  miles,  and  we'll  better 
that  this  afternoon,"  he  said,  to  his  party.  "  I'll  win 
my  thousand  dollars,  gentlemen.  We'll  finish  out  our 
eight  miles,  and  I've  another  thousand  to  say  so." 

"Golly!"  George  blurted.  "He's  bet  a  thousand 
dollars  on  it." 

"  Well,  I  reckon  he'll  win,  all  right,"  answered 
Terry.  "  The  gang's  just  getting  limbered  up.  Come 
on,  you  and  Virgie.  Let's  hunt  grub." 


THE  "TARRIERS"  MAKE  A  RECORD      191 

The  cooks  had  coffee  and  meat  and  potato  and  hot- 
bread  ready.  The  squads  were  flocking  to  their  messes. 

"  We'll  eat  with  Pat,"  Terry  proposed;  and  so  they 
did,  Virgie  having  the  seat  of  honor. 

"  We'll  make  it,  we'll  make  it,"  Pat  assured.  "  Sure 
we'll  make  it.  Ain't  we  got  to  stick  up  a  mark  for 
them  Chinks  to  aim  at?  Yes,  an'  ain't  the  papers  out 
east  waitin'  wid  their  big  type,  to  tell  all  the  world 
about  it?  Aye,  we'll  make  it.  An'  if  I  know  the 
gin'ral,  then  that  thousand  dollars'll  go  as  'asy  as  it 
comes  to  him,  an'  iv'ry  man'll  have  a  bit  to  cilibrate 


on." 


Twelve-thirty!      'Time!" 

"  Hit  'em  ag'in,  lads!  "  yelped  Pat. 

"  Down !  Down !  "  "  Whang !  Whang !  Whangity- 
whang!" 

A  portion  of  the  crowd  had  gone  back  to  Bryan  for 
dinner.  Number  119  brought  them  in  again,  with  the 
iron.  Back  and  forth  plied  gaunt  old  Jenny  and  the 
bony  nag  her  partner,  hauling  the  trucks.  Back  and 
forth,  on  haul  ever  longer,  plied  the  construction-train. 
End  o'  track,  followed  by  the  General  Casement  party 
and  the  crowd,  ever  shot  onward. 

Mile-stake  Four  was  passed;  and  in  record  time, 
Mile-stake  Five ;  and  Stake  Six ;  and  when  the  sun  was 
low  over  the  crests  of  the  Wasatch  Range,  Stake 
Seven ! 

"  Hurrah !  Seven  miles !  Nobody'll  beat  that,  any- 
how." 

"  Wan  more,  now !  "  rasped  Pat,  hoarse  with  bossing 
at  top  speed.  "  Wan  more,  an'  yez  can  stop  an'  have 
the  rist  o'  the  day  off." 


192          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

"  You've  got  the  time,  but  no  time  to  spare,"  snapped 
General  Casement.  He  was  getting  nervous. 

"  Aw,  they'll  make  it,"  said  Terry,  to  George  and 
Virgie.  "  But  I'm  sort  of  tired,  myself.  We'll  have 
stood  around  for  eight  miles,  by  night.  How  you 
feeling,  Virgie?" 

"  I'm  all  right." 

"It's  toughest  on  Jenny.  Look  at  her.  She's  about 
all  in,"  spoke  George. 

That  was  the  truth.  Old  Jenny's  yellow  hide  was 
dark  and  dirty  and  dank  with  sweat.  Her  nostrils 
flared,  her  ribs  heaved,  her  eyes  were  wide  and  bulging, 
her  breath  sounded  wheezily,  and  as  she  toiled  down 
and  up  again,  kicked  vigorously  by  Jimmie  Muldoon's 
brother,  she  frequently  stumbled. 

"  Her  legs  are  giving  out,"  Terry  pronounced. 
"  Poor  old  Jenny.  She's  come  a  long  way." 

"  Guess  so,"  George  agreed.  "  They  ought  to  let 
her  quit,  after  today,  and  put  her  on  a  pension." 

The  eight-mile  stake  was  in  sight;  the  men  were  on 
their  last  spurt.  The  sun  had  set  behind  the  Wasatch. 
That  made  no  difference.  The  sun  set  early,  these 
days,  here. 

"  Down !  Down !  "  "  Whang !  Whang !  Whangity- 
whang!"  The  brisk  chorus  never  ceased;  the  men 
never  faltered.  Some  of  them,  too,  staggered  and 
stumbled,  but  they  didn't  miss  a  step  or  a  blow.  They 
all  were  wringing  wet.  Several  had  lost  their  hats  — 
they  didn't  pause  to  pick  them  up. 

"  Wonder  what  time  it  is  now,"  George  remarked. 

"  I  dunno.    Must  be  five  o'clock ;  feels  that  way." 


THE  "  TARRIERS  "  MAKE  A  RECORD      193 

"  This  is  a  mighty  long  mile!  " 

"  Sure  is.    It's  going  to  be  a  close  shave." 

"Well,  I  guess  they'll  make  it,  all  right,"  said 
George,  hopefully. 

"  Will,  if  Jenny  holds  out." 

Jenny  was  standing  straddled  and  trembly,  her  long 
ears  lax  and  her  head  hanging.  Her  rider  scarcely 
could  budge  her,  between  hauls.  But  the  truck  was 
empty,  her  rope  had  been  hooked  on  to  the  rear  end, 
the  truck  was  tipped  aside  to  let  Jimmie  Muldoon  by, 
it  was  tipped  back  upon  the  track,  her  rider  kicked  her 
in  the  ribs,  and  she  groaned  and  started. 

"  Give  that  boy  a  pair  of  spurs,  somebody,"  called  a 
voice  from  the  crowd.  Jenny  broke  from  her  shamble 
into  a  gallop,  and  went  laboring  down  track.  Jimmie 
Muldoon's  nag  stood  heaving  —  near  spent,  himself. 

The  men  snatched  the  rails  off.  Working  fast  — 
"  Down !  Down !  " —  they  bared  the  truck  and  end  o' 
track  reached  out,  for  the  eight-mile  stake. 

"  Tip  her !  Tip  her !  "  For  the  truck  was  empty 
and  Jenny's  truck  was  nearing. 

"  Come  on !  Hurry  up !  "  And  Pat  frantically 
waved  his  arm. 

"  What  ails  ye?  "  he  bawled.  "  Put  your  heels  into 
her  ribs." 

"  Bite  her  ear,  boy !  "    That  was  mean  advice. 

Old  Jenny  tried  to  respond,  as  the  crowd  yelled  and 
her  rider  pummeled  her  with  hands  and  feet.  She 
galloped  again  —  but  no  use.  Suddenly  she  swayed 
aside,  blindly;  and  down  she  pitched,  all  in  a  heap; 
struggled  an  instant,  to  rise ;  rolled  over  and  lay  stiffen- 


194          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

ing  right  across  the  track.  Jimmie  Muldoon's 
brother  rolled  also,  but  he  got  up. 

"  Oh !  "  cried  Virgie,  covering  her  eyes  with  her 
hands.  "  Jenny's  dead.  I  know  she's  dead." 

"  Come  on !  "  exclaimed  Terry.  He  ran ;  George 
ran;  Pat  ran;  the  crowd  flocked,  whooping  and 
laughing. 

"  T'row  her  off'n  the  track.  For  the  love  o'  the 
saints,  t'row  her  off,"  panted  Pat.  "  She's  blockin' 
traffic." 

A  dozen  men  toiled,  grabbing  her  by  the  legs  and 
head  and  turning  her  over. 

"Iron!  Where's  the  iron!"  That  was  the  call 
from  end  o'  track. 

Now  the  rope  had  been  unhooked  and  with  one- 
legged  Dennis  putting  his  shoulder  to  the  load,  a  dozen 
men  swarmed  against  the  truck  and  began  to  roll  it 
forward. 

"Whoa'p!  That  won't  do."  General  Corse  had 
laughingly  objected.  "  You're  getting  outside  help, 
Casement.  It  isn't  in  the  bargain." 

"  Let  the  truck  alone.  Bring  on  another  animal  — 
horse  or  mule,  but  bring  it  on,"  stormed  General  Case- 
ment, watch  in  hand.  "  Quick,  now." 

Pat  yelled  and  waved  and  danced.  People  worked 
fast,  but  it  seemed  another  long  time  before  a  white 
horse  had  taken  Jenny's  place;  and  leaving  her  wet, 
muddy  body  lying,  the  truck  rumbled  on. 

Virgie  was  still  standing  in  place,  her  fingers  press- 
ing her  eyes  tight  shut. 

"Is  Jenny  dead?" 


THE  "  TARRIERS  "  MAKE  A  RECORD      195 

"  I'm  afraid  she  is,  Virgie,"  answered  Terry. 

"  Then  I  want  to  go  home,"  she  sobbed. 

But  what  was  that?  General  Casement  had 
shouted  —  "  Time !  "  the  men  had  thrown  down  their 
tools,  and  were  waiting  and  gazing  and  mopping  their 
faces.  The  truck  had  not  been  a  quarter  emptied, 
and  the  stake  was  still  on  ahead. 

"  We  couldn't  have  made  it,  anyway,  mule  or  no 
mule,"  announced  the  general,  calmly.  "  But  we  did 
our  best.  It's  a  record  to  be  proud  of.  The  Central 
will  know  we're  on  the  job,  at  this  end." 

"They're  quitting!"  George  gasped. 

"  How  far  do  you  want  to  call  it,  general?"  asked 
General  Corse. 

"  Seven  miles  and  five-eighths,  sir.  That  won't  miss 
it  more  than  a  foot.  And  I  also  call  it  a  mighty  good 
day's  work.  Come  on.  Let's  go  to  supper."  With 
that,  General  "  Jack,"  champion  track-layer  of  the 
continent,  turned  on  his  heel  and  strode  off.  He 
didn't  seem  to  care  anything  about  the  thousand  dol- 
lars, or  about  Jenny. 

"  Close  onto  eight,  annyhow,"  Pat  puffed.  "  'Twill 
be  somethin'  for  them  pig-tails  to  chaw  on." 

The  tired  men  gave  a  cheer,  and  looking  for  coats 
and  hats  surged  to  meet  the  boarding-train  or  else  to 
their  camps.  The  crowd  raced  for  the  construction- 
train,  and  a  ride  back  to  Bryan.  Helping  the  weeping 
Virgie,  Terry  and  George  hastened  for  the  cab  of  119. 
They  passed  Jenny  —  or  what  had  been  Jenny.  She 
was  dead ;  she  didn't  give  a  sign  of  knowing  who  they 
were,  although  her  eyes  were  staring  wide  open. 

"  Don't  suppose  there's  any  use  in  trying  to  bury 


196          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

her,"  George  proposed,  as  they  paused  a  moment,  while 
Virgie  ran  on  blubbering. 

"Nope.  Who'd  lend  a  hand  at  it?  What  does 
the  U.  P.  care  about  a  horse  or  mule  ?  "  Terry  de- 
manded, thickly. 

"  She  died  in  line  of  duty,  just  the  same;  like  old 
Shep  was  killed  in  action." 

"  I  know  it.  But  that's  happening  to  something  or 
somebody,  about  every  day ;  and  doesn't  matter,  as  long 
as  the  rails  move  forward." 

Remembering  the  handcar  crew  and  the  freight- 
train  crew,  and  Percy  Browne  and  Surveyor  Hills 
(who  was  younger  still),  and  now  counting  Shep  and 
Jenny,  it  did  seem  as  though  the  road  was  taking  a 
heavy  toll.  There  were  many  others,  besides  —  some- 
body or  something  almost  every  day,  as  Terry  had 
said. 

Each  bestowing  upon  Jenny's  cold  hide  a  last  pat, 
they  followed  after  Virgie. 

"  Reckon  we'll  have  to  break  the  news  to  Harry, 
back  at  Laramie,"  remarked  George.  Harry  Revere 
had  got  as  far  as  Laramie  City,  and  was  lightning- 
shooter  there,  now. 

"  Yes,  reckon  we  will,"  Terry  mused.  "  I'm  glad 
he  wasn't  here  to  see.  He's  powerful  fond  of  old 
Jenny." 

Somehow,  they  all  felt  rather  sober,  that  night  in 
the  cosy  Home  Cooking  restaurant.  But  it  had  been 
a  great  day.  Seven  and  five-eighths  miles  of  track  in 
the  ten  hours.  Whew!  And  Jenny  had  not  been  to 
blame.  General  Casement  was  satisfied.  He  had  said 
that  they  wouldn't  have  made  the  eight  miles,  anyway. 


CHAPTER  XV 

A    FIGHT    FOR   A    FINISH 

"  WHEW  !     Watch  those  tarriers  '  drill/  will  you !  " 

The  fall  of  1868  had  vanished  in  a  whirlpool  of 
furious  work.  Now  in  the  early  winter  Terry  Rich- 
ards stood  beside  George  Stanton,  at  the  entrance  to 
a  cut  through  snow  higher  than  their  heads,  high  up 
towards  the  crest  of  the  Wasatch  Mountains  dividing 
Wyoming  from  Utah,  and  with  frosty  breath  ex- 
claimed while  the  rails  went  forward. 

Truly  an  inspiring  sight  this  was.  The  landscape 
was  white.  For  a  day  there  had  been  a  thawing  wind, 
which  melted  the  snow  of  the  partially  cleared  grade, 
had  left  the  grade  and  ties  icy,  and  turned  the  rails  to 
twin  lines  which  glittered  under  the  sun  of  the  succeed- 
ing cold  spell. 

Far  below  stretched  the  row  of  men,  working  in 
their  shirt  sleeves,  with  their  breaths  and  the  steam 
from  their  bodies  floating  in  vapor.  The  rails,  brittle 
from  the  frost,  and  handled  carefully  with  mittens, 
were  clanging,  the  rail  trucks,  hauled  by  the  white- 
encrusted  Muldoon  nags,  rumbled  from  behind,  and 
the  boarding-train,  also  white-coated,  had  pulled  in,  to 
await  the  arrival  of  the  construction-train. 

Drowning  the  ring  of  sledges  and  clink  of  shovels 
and  crow-bars,  from  the  west  distance  there  occasion- 

197 


198 


OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 


ally  echoed  the  dull  boom  of  blasts;  for  the  grading 
gangs  were  not  so  far  ahead,  now;  the  rails  were  on 
their  heels;  the  ground  had  frozen  too  hard  for  pick 
and  plough,  and  every  yard  of  earth  in  the  cuts  had  to 
be  blasted  like  granite.  Three  dollars  a  yard  the  U.  P. 
company  were  paying,  the  same  as  for  rock  work. 

George  had  come  up,  on  the  pay-car,  again.  The 
pay-car  was  halted  just  at  the  rear  of  the  boarding- 
train.  Down  the  track,  but  out  of  sight,  the  construc- 
tion-train might  be  heard  puffing  noisily. 

"  I  don't  reckon  the  C.  P.  folks  met  up  with  much 
worse  than  this,  in  their  mountains,"  Terry  added. 

"  Shucks,  boy !  Haven't  you  heard  tell  that  their 
Chinks  had  to  shovel  a  grade  through  forty  feet 
of  snow  pack?"  scoffed  George.  "Yes,  and  build 
wooden  tunnels,  like,  to  keep  from  being  buried  alive. 
If  they  were  good  for  forty  feet,  we're  good  for  sixty. 
We  aren't  going  to  stop  for  winter,  either.  We're 
bound  on  through,  straight  to  Humbolt  Wells." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "    That  was  sudden  news. 

"  I  heard  it  on  the  way  up.  General  Dodge  and 
Superintendent  Reed  were  talking  about  it  in  the  pay- 
car.  That's  what  they're  talking  about  with  General 
Casement  now,  I  bet.  The  track  gang  and  grading 
gangs  are  going  to  work  right  on  all  winter,  same 
as  any  time.  General  Dodge  said  it  would  cost  the 
company  $10,000,000  extra  —  but  he's  had  orders 
from  New  York  to  keep  going  regardless,  and  meet 
the  C.  P.  at  Humboldt  Wells.  So  we've  got  to  finish 
those  725  miles  at  one  stint,  boy,  while  the  C.  P.  are 
building  only  300.  Think  of  that!  They've  been 


A  FIGHT  FOR  A  FINISH  199 

building  all  the  year  and  we've  still  got  400,  our- 
selves." 

"  Gee  whiz !  "  Terry  gasped.  "  And  we're  in  the 
mountains,  to  boot,  with  the  snow  piling  on  top  of  us ! 
Wonder  what  Pat  will  say?  " 

General  Dodge,  General  Casement  and  Superin- 
tendment  of  Construction  Reed  were  walking  slowly 
up  track.  The  puffing  of  the  construction-train 
sounded  more  and  more  labored  —  now  and  then  broke 
into  a  terrific  staccato  or  drum-fire  as  the  drive-wheels 
of  its  two  engines  slipped  on  the  rails.  It  had  a  heavy 
load  of  rails  and  ties  both,  an  engine  to  pull  and  an 
engine  to  push. 

The  three  men  turned  to  watch  it  come.  It  was 
now  in  sight,  rounding  a  curve  below,  weaving  among 
the  pines  and  rocks,  and  coughing  black  smoke.  It 
entered  a  deep  cut  —  emerged,  and  swaying  and  strug- 
gling struck  a  long  fill  where  the  dirt  ballast  bridged  a 
hill  slope,  in  a  curve,  and  fell  sharply  away  from  under 
the  outer  ends  of  the  ties. 

"Puff!  Puff!  Puff-puff-puff!  Puff!  Puff! 
PUFF-puff-puff-puff-puff !  " 

The  whole  bank  glistened  with  the  ice ;  trickles  from 
the  lately  melted  snow  seamed  it;  it  was  a  south  slope, 
and  the  ice  and  snow  had  melted  a  little  today,  again. 

"  She'll  never  make  it,  will  she?  "  George  uttered. 

"  With  dad  and  Bill  running  119?  Sure  she'll  make 
it,"  declared  Terry.  "Dad  says  give  old  119  sand 
enough  and  she'll  climb  a  telegraph  pole." 

Around  the  hill  roared  the  heavy  train,  clouding  all 
the  snowy  timber  with  its  dense  smoke  and  shaking  the 


200          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

air  with  its  bombardment  of  explosions.  It  gathered 
way  as  it  straightened  out,  for  a  moment;  suddenly 
began  to  tilt  sideways  —  engine,  tender,  first  car,  sec- 
ond car  —  the  whistle  spurted  steam,  but  before  the 
shrieks  of  the  engine  and  the  shouts  of  the  spectators 
mingled,  the  track  had  yielded.  Yes,  the  train,  engine 
and  all,  car  chasing  car  in  a  tumbling,  plunging  hurly- 
burly  while  the  brakemen  sprawled  clear,  was  rolling 
and  sliding  down  the  hill  slope,  taking  rails  and  ties 
with  it.  Its  trail  left  a  wide  scar  in  the  snow.  Only 
the  pusher  engine  and  the  caboose  remained,  above. 

General  Dodge,  General  Casement  and  Superin- 
tendent Reed  already  were  running.  Terry  and 
George  ran.  Amid  wild  shouts  the  track  gang,  some 
dropping  their  tools,  others  carrying  crow-bars  and 
picks  and  spades,  ran,  slipping  and  staggering  as  they 
pelted  down  the  track,  or  by  a  shortcut  forged  through 
the  deep  snow. 

"  Oh,  gosh !  "  George  panted,  sprinting. 

"  I  should  say !  "  gasped  Terry. 

Marvelous  to  tell,  the  engine  —  good  old  No.  119! 
—  had  landed  right  side  up !  Engineer  Richards  and 
Foreman  Bill  had  stuck  to  their  posts;  they  were 
dazedly  descending  from  the  cab. 

"  I've  always  said  she  was  a  lucky  girl,"  announced 
Terry's  father,  through  the  blood  from  a  gash  in  his 
cheek. 

But  what  a  mess  that  was,  here  in  the  little  gulch! 
A  mixture  of  rails,  ties,  cars,  extending  from  roadbed 
to  bottom.  But  nobody  badly  hurt. 

"  A  foine  dump  yez  made,"  Pat  wheezed,  arriving. 


A  FIGHT  FOR  A  FINISH  201 

"  Aren't  yez  satisfied  to  lave  the  track  where  we  laid 
it?  Move  your  feet,  men,"  he  barked,  at  the  staring, 
laughing  track  gang,  tearing  in  out  of  breath.  "  Part 
o*  yez  on  the  grade  ag'in ;  there's  rails  an'  ties  a-plenty, 
an'  I  want  a  new  track  widin  the  hour.  What's  wan 
train  in  the  ditch,  annyhow  ?  " 

All  was  good  nature.  The  men  sprang  to  their 
tasks.  General  Casement  nodded  approvingly.  He 
and  General  Dodge  beckoned  Pat  aside.  Pat  listened 
and  nodded  also. 

"  Sure,"  he  agreed.  "  What's  the  use  o'  stoppin'  for 
weather  ?  Give  us  the  rails  an'  the  pay-car  reg'lar,  an* 
the  boys'll  keep  goin'." 

So  the  work  was  to  continue  all  winter ! 

The  many  hands  made  a  short  job  of  laying  a  new 
section  of  track.  The  engine  with  the  pay-car  backed 
down ;  and  aiding  the  derrick,  it  and  the  pusher  engine 
of  the  construction-train  began  to  remove  the  wreck 
from  the  ditch. 

The  U.  P.  gangs  knew  no  such  words  as  "  quit." 
Their  eyes  were  ever  turned  westward,  peering  for 
Ogden  and  for  the  smoke  of  the  C.  P.  construction- 
trains,  beyond. 

"  Wan  hundred  miles  to  the  top,  an'  wan  hundred 
down,  on  the  last  leg,  an'  there  we  are,  boys,"  Pat  had 
cheered.  He  was  a  host  in  himself. 

The  Wasatch  Range  of  the  Rockies  had  loomed 
ever  nearer  and  nearer.  It  had  proved  to  be  a  fine 
hunting  and  fishing  country ;  but  nobody  took  the  time 
to  hunt  or  fish.  It  had  proved  to  be  a  wonderful 
scenery  country;  but  nobody  had  time  to  view  the 


2O2 


OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 


strange  rocks  and  dashing  rivers  and  pine-clad  slopes. 
The  men  only  worked,  ate,  slept  —  and  worked  again, 
to  the  tune  of  "Down!  Down!"  and  "Whang! 
Whang!  Whangity-whang !  Whang!  Whang!  From 
grading  camps  and  tie  camps,  located  far  out  in  the 
high  timbered  regions,  wild  nights  and  strenuous  days 
were  reported. 

The  surveyors  had  found  a  pass  better  than  the  stage 
road  pass,  over  the  north  end  of  the  Wasatch;  the 
advance  grading  gangs  were  being  flung  forward  150 
miles,  to  blast  the  cuts  and  level  the  ridges;  and 
although  Omaha  was  900  miles  behind,  the  rails  were 
coming  forward  in  a  long  thunderous  procession  of 
trains  and  dumped  at  the  eager  front. 

"  No  hand  shall  be  taken  from  the  throttle  until  we 
know  that  the  front  is  supplied,"  had  telegraphed 
Superintendent  Hoxie,  from  Omaha. 

And  Terry  as  time  checker  and  George  as  pay-car 
clerk  were  as  busy  as  the  busiest. 

Up  for  the  pass  had  climbed  the  track,  following  the 
winding  line  of  survey  stakes  that  frequently  stretched 
one  mile  into  two  and  three.  End  o'  track  was  eleven 
miles  north  of  old  Fort  Bridger,  Jim  Bridger's  station 
on  the  Overland  Stage  trail,  and  6,550  feet  in  air,  when 
winter  struck. 

On  that  October  morning  Terry,  the  track-layers 
and  ballasters  had  romped  out  from  the  boarding- 
train  into  a  foot  of  snow  and  an  air  thick  with  the 
whirling  flakes. 

"Merry  Christmas!" 

"  Sure,  an'  snow-birds  we  are !  " 


A  FIGHT  FOR  A  FINISH  203 

"  Yes,  an'  snow-shoes  we'll  nade,  for  this  kind  o' 
work." 

The  men  were  lively,  but  the  march  was  slowed.  For 
two  days  the  storm  had  raged,  before  the  weather  set- 
tled to  clear  and  stinging  cold.  The  construction-train, 
No.  119  switched  to  the  pulling  end,  bucked  the  drifts 
with  two  engines ;  and  as  many  men  wielding  shovels, 
scraping  the  grade,  as  wielded  sledges  and  picks  and 
crowbars.  There  was  plenty  of  wood,  so  that  the 
boarding-train  and  camps  were  kept  warm. 

Terry  rode  his  horse  breast-high  in  the  white  mantle, 
to  get  the  time  from  the  gang  bosses. 

Storm  had  succeeded  storm.  It  was  to  be  a  hard 
winter  and  an  early  winter;  and  of  the  500  miles  only 
some  375  had  been  finished.  Now  fairly  out  of  their 
mountains  and  into  the  Nevada  desert,  the  C.  P.  crews 
were  coming  fast  —  they  had  to  haul  fuel  and  ties  and 
water  as  well  as  their  rails,  from  far  behind,  but  they 
had  laid  250  miles  and  graded  300. 

'  They've  got  350  miles  yet  to  go,  'fore  they  reach 
Ogden,  ag'in  our  100,"  quoth  Pat.  "  But  if  we're 
snowed  in  atop  these  mountains  wid  the  passes  behind 
an'  ahid  blocked,  whilst  they  have  only  a  few  ridges  to 
cross,  faith  they're  like  to  bate  us  in  the  spring." 

Mile  by  mile,  at  snail's  pace  instead  of  giant's  strides, 
the  U.  P.  track  crept  onward  and  upward,  piercing  the 
snow. 

"  Well,  if  we  can't  f oiler  the  stakes  we  can  f oiler 
the  tiligraph  poles,"  Pat  encouraged.  "  They're 
stickin'  into  sight." 

For  the  railroad  trail  was  now  almost  the  same  as  the 


204          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

Overland  Stage  trail,  and  the  telegraph  had  been  in 
here  since  '61. 

All  in  all,  readily  enough  might  Terry  Richards  ex- 
claim: "  Whew!  "  and  wonder  if  the  C.  P.  had  had 
any  worse  country  in  their  winter  mountains. 

Thanksgiving  caught  them  on  the  summit  of  the 
pass  over  —  7,500  feet  up,  but  not  so  high  as  Sherman 
Summit  of  the  Black  Hills. 

"  Down  grade,  hooray !  "  the  men  cheered,  although 
down  grade  made  little  difference.  But  they  were  get- 
ting west  of  the  Rockies,  at  last. 

Before  Christmas  another  town  and  supply  base 
awaited  end  o'  track.  This  was  Evanston,  named  for 
Mr.  James  Evans  the  engineering  chief,  in  the  Bear 
River  Valley  on  the  west  slope  of  the  Uintah  Range 
of  the  Wasatch.  'Twas  a  depot  for  the  ties  that  had 
been  floated  down  the  Bear,  and  according  to  Geolo- 
gist Van  Lennep  there  were  coal  fields  near  by. 

Omaha,  955  miles;  Ogden,  seventy-five  miles.  Of 
the  955  miles  the  Government  inspectors  had  accepted 
940,  already.  From  Bryan  arrived  Casement  Broth- 
ers' take-down  warehouse,  and  the  Home  Cooking  res- 
taurant bringing  Mother  Richards  and  Mother  Stanton 
and  Virgie  —  but  that  was  about  all.  The  gamblers 
and  saloon-men  and  toughs  had  gathered  from  Utah 
and  the  grading  and  tie  camps. 

Virgie  was  tickled  to  be  at  the  front  again.  Now 
she  might  ride  the  engine  of  the  construction-train, 
when  she  felt  like  it,  and  keep  up  her  record  of  "  first 
passenger  across." 

"  Sure,  'tis  a  winter  quarters  for  them  that  nade 


A  FIGHT  FOR  A  FINISH  205 

such,"  announced  Pat  —  and  genuine  winter  quarters 
Evanston  certainly  appeared  to  be,  with  the  snow  above 
the  roofs  of  the  one-story  shacks.  "  But  we'll  not 
stay  long,  otirsilves;  not  even  for  Christmas  cilibra- 
tion  of  more'n  a  day.  We'll  put  Wyoming  behind 
us,  lad,  an'  get  into  Utah  wance  more  afore  the  year 
closes.  Yis,  we'll  chase  that  boundary  till  we  ketch 
it." 

In  the  past  few  months  Wyoming  had  passed  end  o' 
track.  It  had  taken  a  bite  out  of  Utah's  northeast 
corner ;  and  this  had  been  discouraging.  But  now  end 
o'  track  forged  on,  out  of  Evanston  into  which  the 
passengers  and  freight  already  were  rolling.  In  the 
dusk  of  New  Year's  Eve  the  track  gangs  threw  down 
their  tools  with  a  whoop. 

Record  for  1868,  425  miles:  fifty  miles  a  month,  all 
told,  across  the  waterless  desert  and  the  frozen  snowy 
mountains,  into  Utah  again,  at  last ! 

"An'  whereabouts  is  the  C.  Pay.,  then?  How  far 
have  they  come,  tell  me  ?  " 

That  was  the  great  question.  The  telegraph  ticked 
the  answer  into  Evanston. 

"Track  completed  by  the  Central  Pacific,  in  1868: 
363  miles." 

Pat  groaned. 

"  They're  short  o'  Humboldt  Wells  only  forty  odd 
miles."  And  he  braced  up.  "But  they're  short  o' 
Ogden  some  270,  ag'in  our  sivinty-five.  An'  the  or- 
ders be  to  reach  Ogden  an  kape'  goin'.  We'll  make  a 
frish  start  'arly  wid  this  new  year." 

Suddenly  the  United  States  awakened  to  the  fact 


206          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

that  the  Salt  Lake  was  to  be  reached  not  in  1870  but 
in  1869,  and  that  the  iron  highway  across  continent 
was  to  be  ready  for  business  six  years  ahead  of 
schedule.  The  Government  had  required  only  fifty 
miles  a  year;  the  two  companies  were  building  200, 
•300,  400.  The  newspapers  of  East  and  West  flared 
with  headlines. 

"  But  where'll  we  meet?  "  proposed  George. 

"  I  dunno,"  Terry  confessed.  "  If  the  C.  P.  keeps 
coming  one  way,  past  Humboldt  Wells,  and  we  keep 
going  the  other  way,  to  Humboldt  Wells,  we  won't 
meet  anywhere." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

FAST  TIME  DOWN  ECHO  CANYON 

"  ALL  aboard,  now !  On  wid  yez.  We've  no  time 
to  lose,  on  the  U.  Pay." 

It  was  the  voice  of  Paddy  Miles,  construction  boss, 
and  also  the  present  "  conductor  "  of  the  construction- 
train  about  to  answer  a  hurry  call  sent  up  to  Wasatch 
station  from  end  o'  track,  for  ties  and  iron. 

Wasatch  station,  at  mile  post  966,  had  marked  end 
o'  track  on  New  Year's  Day,  this  1869.  It  was  eleven 
miles  from  Evanston,  the  supply  base,  and  seven  miles 
on  from  the  sign  board  which  on  the  east  side  said 
"  Wyoming  "  and  on  the  west  side  said  "  Utah." 

But  since  New  Year's  end  o'  track  had  advanced  to 
Echo  City,  twenty-five  miles  down  Echo  Canyon,  and 
was  still  going,  although  slowly. 

That  had  been  a  tough  job,  to  get  onward  from 
Evanston.  First,  the  sidings  at  Evanston  were  laid,  in 
the  deep  snow;  and  just  beyond  Wasatch,  in  order  to 
enter  the  pass  of  Echo  Canyon,  two  trestles,  one  230 
feet  long  and  thirty  feet  high,  the  other  450  feet  long 
and  seventy-five  feet  high,  had  to  be  built,  to  cross  side 
gulches,  and  a  tunnel  770  feet  long  —  the  longest  tun- 
nel on  the  line  —  had  to  be  bored  through  sandstone, 
and  frozen  clay  even  harder. 

When  he  learned  that  the  railroad  was  not  to  touch 

207 


208          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

Salt  Lake  City,  President  Brigham  Young  of  the  Mor- 
mons had  refused  to  lend  any  help ;  but  Superintendent 
of  Construction  Sam  Reed  had  argued  with  him,  in 
friendly  fashion,  and  had  proved  to  him  that  Ogden 
was  the  best  point. 

So  President  Young  had  fallen  in  again,  had  sent 
men  and  teams  and  supplies,  and  with  Mr.  Reed  him- 
self overseeing  matters  on  that  division  the  work 
was  being  pushed. 

"  An*  sure,  ain't  we  got  to  hustle  ?  "  appealed  Pat. 
"  For  I  hear  tell  that  those  yaller  spalpeens  on  the  C. 
Pay.Ve  jumped  ahead  o'  their  own  gradin'  by  a  mat- 
ter of  a  hundred  miles  an'  are  startin'  in  on  a  new  di- 
vision entoirely,  so's  to  get  into  Ogden  first." 

"  Yes.  But  Mr.  Reed  has  sent  some  of  our  own 
graders  150  miles  out,  to  grade  into  Humboldt  Wells 
while  the  C.  P.  are  trying  to  grade  into  Ogden," 
laughed  Terry. 

"  It's  a  game  two  can  play,"  Pat  admitted.  "  An' 
there'll  be  another  game  if  those  Chinks  get  in  our 
way,  wance." 

The  trestles  were  still  being  put  in  and  the  long 
tunnel  blasted.  To  pass  around,  a  temporary  road 
had  been  laid,  in  a  sort  of  zigzag  —  and  "  Z  "  it  had 
been  named  —  or  series  of  switchbacks,  down  from 
the  ridge  that  divided  Wasatch,  in  the  Bear  River 
Valley,  and  Echo  Canyon.  That  had  been  quite  a 
job,  too;  the  descent  was  very  sharp  —  in  fact,  nearly 
all  the  way  to  Ogden  there  was  a  sharp  descent, 
through  several  canyons,  where  the  roadbed  clung 
to  the  canyons'  sides. 


FAST  TIME  DOWN  ECHO  CANYON     209 

This  day  Terry  was  up  at  Wasatch,  on  business; 
George  was  going  back  with  him  —  likewise  on  busi- 
ness at  end  o'  track ;  and  Paddy  Miles  had  the  con- 
struction train  and  its  'special  hurry  load. 

"  All  aboard,  now !     On  wid  yez." 

There  were  sixteen  flat-cars,  and  No.  119.  A  ride 
through  Echo  Canyon  was  a  treat.  The  narrow  can- 
yon curved  every  which- way,  was  plumb  full  of  oddly 
shaped  figures  like  Hanging  Rock,  Sentinel  Rock, 
Kettle  Rocks,  Pulpit  Rock,  The  Great  Eastern  (which 
resembled  a  steamboat),  and  so  forth  —  all  curious  to 
the  graders  and  track-layers.  And  some  of  the  down- 
ward pitches  were  ninety  feet  to  the  mile,  so  that  the 
train  swooped  along  without  throttle  and  with  brake- 
shoes  grinding. 

To  sit  on  a  pile  of  ties  and  watch  the  scenery  spin 
past  —  that  was  a  privilege  for  only  employes  of  the 
U.  P.  Passengers  of  the  road  had  no  such  lark. 

The  two  boys  settled  themselves  comfortably,  with 
their  legs  hanging  over  the  front  end  of  the  pile  of 
ties  on  the  first  tie  car  back  from  the  engine,  so  as  to 
get  a  good  view  ahead.  Paddy  sat  only  a  short  dis- 
tance behind.  There  was  a  brakeman  farther  along, 
and  on  one  of  the  rear  cars  were  a  couple  of  Dutch- 
men —  new  hands  going  forward  to  one  of  the  grad- 
ing gangs. 

Down  the  "Z"  plunged  the  train  (old  No.  119 
carefully  holding  back)  for  the  first  eight  miles,  and 
struck  into  Echo  Canyon  at  last  at  the  Castle  Rock. 
The  day  was  fine  —  sunny  and  not  cold,  although 
snow  lay  on  the  north  slopes  and  in  the  shaded  hoi- 


210          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

lows,  and  the  tips  of  the  pines  had  scarcely  commenced 
to  green  out.  But  spring  was  in  the  air,  for  spring 
came  earlier  to  the  west  slope  of  the  Rockies  than  to 
the  east  slope. 

The  train  began  to  roar  between  the  rocky  walls; 
the  engine,  running  almost  free,  whisked  to  right,  to 
left,  with  the  line  of  heavy  cars  whisked  after;  Fire- 
man Bill  repeatedly  jerked  the  whistle  cord,  and  the 
wails  jangled  from  wall  to  wall  and  crag  to  crag. 

It  was  a  glorious  ride  —  a  charge  by  the  U.  P. 
construction  force,  bringing  reinforcements  to  the 
front.  The  boys'  hats  flared  back,  the  breeze  freshly 
smote  their  faces,  and  every  minute  a  new  landmark 
in  shape  of  pinnacle  and  sculpture  appeared,  for  an 
instant,  flashed  by  and  was  succeeded  by  another. 
Hurrah! 

"  Great,  eh  ?  "  gasped  George. 

"  Sure  beats  staging.  Look  at  the  old  stage  road, 
yonder.  'Twould  take  the  stage  four  hours  to  make 
this,  and  we'll  do  it  in  one." 

"  We're  the  people,  all  right,"  bragged  George. 
And  he  burst  into  song: 

"  Oh,  it's  work  all  day 
On  the  old  U.  Pay., 
And  keep  a-goin'  to  Frisco  Bay ! " 

Terry  interrupted: 

"What's  the  matter.  Gee  whiz!  Look  behind! 
We're  busted !  " 

The  engine  also  had  interrupted  with  hoarse  shriek 
after  shriek;  Paddy  was  standing  upright,  waving  his 


FAST  TIME  DOWN  ECHO  CANYON     211 

arms ;  the  brakeman  was  running  back  —  and  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  behind,  up  the  grade,  was  the  tail  of  the 
trains :  four  cars,  two  loaded  with  -ties,  one  with  rails 
and  one  with  fastenings.  The  train,  as  Terry  had  ex- 
pressed, had  "  busted." 

"  That  's  a  joke  on  the  Dutchmen,"  George  cheered. 
"What  we  going  to  do?  Run  on  and  leave  'em?" 

"  Maybe.  Yes.  No.  I  dunno !  Jiminy,  look  at 
'em  come,  though!  Hope  they  don't  ram  us." 

"  Your  father's  whistling  for  brakes.  Hear 
him?" 

"  That's  not  to  us ;  it's  to  them." 

Terry  and  George  sat  straight,  in  alarm.  The  train 
had  reached  a  short  level  spot,  but  the  four  cars  be- 
hind were  on  a  steep  down-grade  and  fairly  leaping  in 
pursuit.  The  gap  rapidly  closed,  until,  still  shriek- 
ing for  "  Brakes,"  and  again  for  "  Clear  track,"  old 
119  sprang  forward  under  open  throttle,  like  a  fright- 
ened horse  under  the  spur. 

Around  a  curve  swept  the  train;  the  four  cars  dis- 
appeared, a  moment  —  but  here  they  came,  full  tilt, 
their  outside  wheels  almost  leaving  the  rails  as  they 
fought  the  tangent.  Their  speed  had  scarcely  slack- 
ened. Now  the  train  struck  into  a  long  down  grade ; 
the  whistle,  like  the  throttle,  was  open  —  but  no  use. 
Those  four  heavy  cars  roared  after,  unchecked,  and 
with  every  yard  their  pace  seemed  to  increase. 

Engineer  Richards  was  giving  Number  119  all  the 
steam  that  he  dared,  if  he  would  keep  the  track.  The 
boys'  car  bounded  and  jerked;  the  pile  of  ties  quiv- 
ered; rails  jingled;  the  whole  train  roared,  and  all  the 


212          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

canyon  was  filled  with  clamor  of  wheels  and  whistle. 

The  anxious,  grimy  face  of  Terry's  father  or  Fire- 
man Bill  might  be  seen,  peering  backward  from  the 
cab  windows,  trying  to  measure  the  margin  of  safety, 
behind. 

"  What  ails  those  Dutchmen,  d'  you  suppose  ? " 
shouted  George,  in  Terry's  ear.  "  'Fraid  to  put  on 
their  brakes.  That's  all  they  need  do:  put  on  their 
brakes." 

"  Sure  thing.  Put  -on  their  brakes.  Why  don't 
they  put  on  their  brakes?"  Terry  yelled  back.  "Do 
they  want  to  smash  us?  " 

The  four  cars  were  gaining ;  down  they  came,  like  a 
thunderbolt,  and  not  a  sign  of  their  two  passengers 
was  visible. 

Terry  half  stood,  the  better  to  see  —  yes,  and  the 
quicker  to  jump  clear,  if  necessary;  George  tried  to 
imitate  him,  but  the  train  hit  another  curve  and  they 
both  were  thrown  to  hands  and  knees  and  barely  es* 
caped  going  overboard  before  time. 

Around  this  curve  also  roared  the  train,  throttle, 
opened  wider  for  the  more  level  stretch,  whistle  still 
shrieking  wildly;  the  four  cars  chased  hotly  —  across 
a  trestle  the  train  boomed,  and  the  rumble  of  the  four 
cars  answered  instantly. 

Old  119  was  now  barely  holding  her  own,  and  there 
were  steep  grades  ahead.  Never  had  a  train  gone 
down  this  canyon  at  such  a  rate ;  and  those  four  cars 
acted  like  a  hungry  dragon  bent  upon  getting  a  meal. 

Pat  and  the  brakeman  were  clutching  to  the  ties  of 
the  rear  car  of  the  train,  pitching  and  swaying  as 


FAST  TIME  DOWN  ECHO  CANYON     213 

they  gazed  and  waved  and  gesticulated,  warning  the 
four  cars  to  keep  distance. 

"What  they  doing?  Look!  What  they  doing?" 
yelled  George,  on  a  sudden. 

"  They're  dumping  off  the  ties  1  Come  on.  We 
got  to  help." 

That  was  a  difficult  journey,  to  rear  of  train.  The 
curves  were  incessant,  shooting  the  train  to  right  and 
left,  and  throwing  the  passengers  with  it.  Crawl, 
hang  hard,  take  a  run,  and  crawl  and  hang  hard  again, 
was  the  only  way  to  navigate. 

Pat  did  not  pause  ;  neither  did  the  brakeman.  They 
already  had  cleared  one  tier  of  ties  from  their  car. 

"  Lend  a  hand  here.  Pass  those  ties  along/'  they 
only  yelped,  over  their  shoulders. 

"  But  you'll  kill  those  Dutchmen,"  screamed  Terry. 

"  No.     They've  jumped,  long  ago." 

"  Sure,"  Paddy  added,  "  either  they  lave  the  track 
'or  we  do;  an'  if  they  smash  into  us  wance,  then  we'll 
all  be  gone  together." 

This  was  the  plan:  to  plant  a  tie  on  the  track,  and 
derail  the  four  cars.  But  although  everybody  worked 
furiously,  heaving  the  ties  over  the  end  of  the  car,  the 
ties  bounded  like  Indian  rubber  —  seemed  scarcely  to 
touch  the  track  before  they  went  hurtling  and  flying 
far  to  one  side  or  the  other. 

"  B'gorry  !  "  Pat  gasped,  streaming  sweat.  And  — 
"If  we  only  can  get  into  Echo  City  wid  time  enough 
for  'em  to  shunt  wan  or  the  other  of  us  into  a 


Echo  City,  at  the  end  of  the  canyon  !    There  were 


214 


OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 


the  sidings.  Now  the  gap  narrowed  again,  the  four 
cars  cared  nothing  for  the  ties  with  which  they  were 
being  bombarded,  but  the  whistle  of  119  was  changed 
to  the  signal  "  Open  switches !  " 

Would  the  crews  at  Echo  City  understand  ?  Would 
they  have  time  to  work  right?  Hauling  and  tugging 
and  dragging,  Terry  and  George  had  farther  and 
farther  to  pass  the  ties  back  to  the  outstretched  hands 
of  Paddy  and  the  brakeman.  It  certainly  was  a  mad 
ride,  this  —  a  ride  for  life,  too!  Blame  those  four 
cars  —  and  blame  those  two  Dutchmen,  who  ought  to 
have  stayed  aboard  and  set  their  brakes ! 

"  Will  we  make  it,  yuh  think?  "  wheezed  George,  as 
he  labored. 

"  Close  squeeze,"  wheezed  Terry.  "  How  far, 
wonder  ? " 

"  Dunno.  Can't  read  mile-posts.  Must  be  near, 
though." 

Around  still  another  of  those  dangerous  curves  — 
and  they  roared  past  a  little  group  of  graders,  repair- 
ing the  track.  They  had  just  a  fleeting  glimpse  of  the 
staring,  startled  faces  and  the  red-shirted  forms;  and 
with  the  four  cars  thundering  after  they  dashed  on. 

But  Echo  City  was  not  far.  Then,  if  the  station 
crews  failed  to  work  mighty  fast,  there  would  be  a 
race  clear  to  end  o'  track  —  and,  whew ! 

"Look!     Oh,  gee!" 

George  had  yelped  excited,  and  awed.  Terry 
looked.  He  was  only  in  time  to  see  the  four  cars 
reared  high  in  the  air,  leaving  the  track  and  with  a 
great  jump  landing,  askew,  to  plunge  end  over  end 


FAST     TIME     DOWN      ECHO     CANYON 


FAST  TIME  DOWN  ECHO  CANYON     215 

down  the  side  of  the  gulch,  while  the  ties  and  rails 
sailed  in  all  directions. 

They  evidently  had  struck  a  tie,  at  last.  A  minute 
more,  and  with  whistle  open  but  throttle  closed,  and 
the  brakeman  and  Pat  scampering  from  brake  to  brake, 
and  the  scattered  section-men  gaping,  the  train  rolled 
triumphant  and  breathless  into  Echo  City. 

The  crash  of  the  wreck  had  been  heard.  Men  ran 
up  track  at  best  speed;  down  jumped  Paddy  and  the 
brakeman,  and  ran,  too ;  with  a  "  Come  on,  quick ! " 
George  legged  to  see,  and  Terry  panted  after. 

The  wreck  was  half  a  mile  back;  a  crowd  had  al- 
ready gathered  around  it  —  were  laughing  and  whoop- 
ing, and  no  wonder :  for  here  were  the  two  Dutchmen, 
sitting  on  the  bank  of  the  ditch,  one  of  them  smoking 
his  pipe,  and  both  well  dazed  but  unharmed.  They 
had  been  aboard,  after  all ! 

"An'  for  why  didn't  yez  set  the  brakes ?"  Pat  was 
storming.  "  Did  yez  want  to  kill  us  all  ?  " 

"  We  knowed  noddings,"  said  the  man  with  the 
pipe.  "Why  didn't  you  wake  us  oop,  to  tell  what 
the  troubles  vas?  " 

*  Then  why  didn't  yez  say  yez  were  aslape,  so  we  'd 
wake  yez  up  before  wastin'  all  the  steam  by  whistlin' 
to  no  use  ?  "  raged  Pat.  "  Now  look  at  the  ties  an* 
rails  an'  four  good  cars  fed  to  yez,  an'  the  Cintral 
Paycific  tryin'  to  bate  us  into  Ogden ! " 

The  two  Dutchmen  really  had  been  fast  asleep  on  a 
load  of  ties;  and  as  they  had  said,  they  "  knowed  nod- 
dings  "  about  any  "  troubles  "  until  they  found  them- 
selves landed  with  a  thump  upon  this  bank! 


216          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

Not  for  some  days  did  Pat  get  done  grumbling  at 
the  "  waste  o'  steam  an'  time  an'  good  cars  " ;  but 
another  event  speedily  made  him  change  his  tune. 

"Th'  C.  Pay."  were  already  coming  up  "  th'  U. 
Pay."  canyon,  out  of  Ogden! 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE   LAST   STRETCH 

"  TH'  C.  Pay.  are  this  side  o'  Ogden  an'  a-comin' 
up  the'  U.  Pay.  grade!" 

Those  were  the  very  words,  plainly  heard  by  Terry 
and  George  both;  but  the  startling  news  seemed  un- 
believable. Pat  straightened  and  gaped. 

"What?  Say  that  ag'in.  Ye  don't  mane  the 
tracks!" 

"  No ;  not  yit.  But,  b'  gorry,  th'  C.  Pay.  ingineers 
have  drove  their  stakes,  an'  th'  C.  Pay.  Mongolians 
have  follered  in,  an'  th'  dirt'll  soon  be  flyin'  on  two 
grades  instead  o'  wan,  in  the  same  canyon,  jist  ahid." 

"An'  where's  their  ind  o'  track,  then?  Tell  me 
that,"  stammered  Pat. 

"Wan  hunderd  an'  fifty  mile  to  th'  west'rd  still. 
Yez'll  bate  'em  into  Ogden  wid  th'  rails,  but  it's 
smart  they  be.  For  haven't  they  thrown  their  men 
beyant  themselves,  to  grade  clane  through  Ogden  an' 
into  th'  mountains,  so  whilst  th'  U.  Pay.  is  a-claimin' 
to  Humboldt  Wells,  th'  C.  Pay.'ll  be  filin'  a  map  wid 
th'  Prisident  at  Washington  claimin'  their  own  rights, 
an'  pay  accordin',  t' rough  th'  Salt  Lake  Valley." 

"  It's  the  rails  that'll  count,"  Pat  retorted.  "  We'll 
be  first  wid  the  rails  —  wan  continuous  line,  mark 
ye  —  an'  whilst  they're  a-comin'  we'll  be  still  a-goin'." 

217 


218          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

"  They're  over  th'  Humboldt  Mountains,  an*  they 
say  they'll  be  layin'  their  six  mile  a  day,  on  th'  level." 

"If  they  lay  their  six  mile  a  day  we'll  lay  our  siven 
an'  eight,"  growled  Pat.  "  AnJ  bad  luck  to  their 
Chinks  who  get  in  the  way  o'  the  Irish." 

"Golly!  Hope  I'll  get  in  often  enough  to  see  the 
fun,"  chuckled  George,  to  Terry.  "You'll  be  down 
in  front  among  the  graders  —  expect  there'll  be  some 
mix-ups  when  the  two  gangs  meet." 

"There  would  be  if  the  U.  P.  graders  were  Irish; 
but  the  gangs  between  here  and  Ogden  are  Brigham 
Young's  Mormons.  I  don't  believe  they'll  fight  with 
the  Chinamen.  And  Pat's  track-layers  won't  stop  to 
fight,  yet." 

The  wreck  was  left  for  the  Echo  City  crews  to  clean 
up.  Pat  forgot  it ;  his  sole  thought  now  was  to  put  the 
rails  into  Ogden.  Orders  reached  him  from  Superin- 
tendent Reed  to  let  the  C.  P.  gangs  strictly  alone  and 
attend  only  to  the  U.  P.  business.  Out  of  Echo  Can- 
yon shot  the  track,  and  down  the  marvelous  Weber 
Canyon,  with  every  mile  getting  lower  and  nearer  to 
Ogden. 

Yes,  the  C.  P.  were  in  here.  First,  a  few  advance 
stakes  were  to  be  noted,  piloting  an  up  grade  almost 
parallel  with  the  U.  P.  down  grade.  Then  a  bunch 
of  C.  P.  location  surveyors  were  sighted,  camped 
across  the  way.  But  all  eyes  were  peeled  for  a  sight 
of  the  "  Chinks  "  themselves  —  those  C.  P.  graders  of 
whom  so  much  had  been  said. 

The  end  o'  track,  pushed  forward  at  top  speed  as  it 
wound  snakelike  through  the  canyon,  passed  the 


THE  LAST  STRETCH  219 

Thousand  Mile  Tree  (a  lone  pine,  beside  the  grade,  on 
which  the  location  surveyors  had  hung  the  sign  "  1000 
Miles"),  and  twenty-four  miles  farther  sort  of  burst 
into  view  of  the  Great  Salt  Lake  Valley  at  last. 

The  Mormon  graders  were  under  separate  contract 
and  separate  bosses,  so  that  as  timekeeper  Terry  had 
nothing  to  do  with  them.  And  he  was  with  the  Irish 
track-construction  crew  when  end  o'  track  forged  by 
the  C.  P.  grade. 

'  Th'  Chinymin!  Be  them  th'  Chinymin?  Faith, 
look  at  'em  wance!  Ain't  they  th'  craturs,  to  be 
workin'  alongside  white  min  ?  " 

For  there  they  were,  the  Central  Pacific  graders,  in 
Union  Pacific  territory  —  and  Chinamen,  sure  enough ! 

"  The  first  I  ever  saw,"  quoth  Pat,  while  he  and  the 
other  men  eyed  them  askance.  "  A  quare  lot,  I  must 
say." 

A  queer  lot  indeed,  where  in  noon  camp,  wearing 
enormously  brimmed  wicker  hats  like  flat  over-turned 
bowls,  and  quilted  blouses  with  large  sleeves,  and 
flappy  blue-cotton  trousers,  and  stubby  shoes,  they 
squatted  around  huge  bowls  of  steaming  rice  and  fished 
out  the  grains  with  their  chop-sticks. 

"  I  hear  tell  they  work  for  a  dollar  a  day  an*  find 
themselves  wid  rice  an'  pork,"  pursued  Pat.  "  Well, 
they  look  it.  Sure  'twould  be  shame  to  insult  a  shillaly 
wid  breakin'  it  on  the  crown  o'  such  pore  craturs  — 
an'  all  I  ask  is  that  they  kape  out  o'  me  way." 

The  Chinamen  scarcely  tilted  their  heads,  under 
their  bowl-shaped  hats,  to  gaze  at  their  rivals ;  and  the 
rails  went  on. 


220          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

"Tis  a  fairish  grade  they're  buildin',"  Pat  sized 
up,  cocking  his  eye.  "  But  who  cares  ?  The  rails  are 
what' 11  count,  an'  we're  out  o'  the  mountains  an' 
more'n  a  few  o'  them  Chinks  are  naded  to  stop  a 
U.  Pay.  gang." 

Out  of  the  mountains!  Date,  last  of  February. 
Mileage  in  the  two  months,  sixty,  not  including  the 
sidings :  but  a  tough  sixty,  battling  the  snows  and 
frozen  earth  and  the  many  curves. 

Beautiful  lay  the  Salt  Lake  Valley,  under  a  bright 
sun;  its  thrifty  Mormon  ranches  showing  green,  its 
towns  clearly  blocked,  and  the  Great  Salt  Lake  shim- 
mering like  silver,  in  the  middle,  with  the  desert 
ranges  bluish  beyond. 

"Where's  Ogden,  now?" 

"How  fur  to  Ogden?" 

And- 

"  Where  's  th'  C.  Pay.  track?" 

"  Only  nine  mile  north'rd  'round  the  base  o'  the 
mountains,  to  Ogden,  lads,"  Pat  cheered.  "  Hooray ! 
Lave  the  dollar-a-day  haythen  to  their  gradin'  an' 
their  bits  o'  rice,  for  they'll  have  mainly  their  trouble 
as  their  pay.  Their  rails  are  a  hunderd  miles  yit  out 
on  the  desert  t'other  side  them  high  ridges.  Wan 
more  sprint  for  us,  an*  there  we  are,  wid  'ase." 

This  night  there  was  much  excitement  in  the  board- 
ing-train and  the  camps  pitched  alongside. 

"  We've  bate  'em !  We've  bate  'em !  Nigh  500 
miles  in  under  tin  months  ag'in  their  400,  an'  the 
dead  o'  winter  ketchin'  us  in  the  mountains,  to  boot !  " 

Three  days  of  rush;  and  the  first  week  of  March, 


THE  LAST  STRETCH  221 

this  1869,  Paddy  Miles*  track-construction  gang  en- 
tered Ogden.     Distance  from  Omaha,  1033.4  miles. 

In  rolled  the  pay-car,  with  George  aboard,  his  eyes 
snapping. 

"Did  you  see  those  Chinamen?"  he  demanded. 
"  Did  you  have  any  fight?  " 

In  rolled  the  freights,  and  the  first  passenger  train. 
Already  the  Government  had  accepted  the  track  as  far 
as  the  Thousand  Mile  Tree. 

George  and  Terry  climbed  to  a  hill-side  high  above 
Ogden.  Below,  the  track  gangs  and  the  tie-layers 
were  celebrating;  the  Mormon  citizens  joined  in. 
Whistles  blew  —  the  hoarse  siren  of  old  119  rose  vic- 
torious, and  the  whistle  of  the  boarding-train  engine 
tried  to  out-do.  It  was  a  great  event,  but  many  eyes 
were  peering  off  into  the  northwest,  like  the  eyes  of  the 
junior  pay  department. 

"  Can  you  see  the  C.  P.  grade  ?  "  queried  George. 

"  Reckon  I  can.  Look  around  the  north  end  of  the 
lake,  to  that  humpy  point  that  sticks  into  it.  Wish  I 
had  a  glass." 

"  I  see !  Anyhow,  I  think  I  see  —  looks  like  there 
was  a  gang  at  work  on  top  the  ridge." 

"  Jim  Bridger  or  Sol  Judy  could  tell.  That's  Prom- 
ontory Point,  and  both  lines  cross  it." 

'  You  don't  see  any  rails,  though !  That's  only  end 
o'  grade  —  the  real  grade.  C.  P.  end  o'  track  is 
clear  the  other  side  of  Promontory,  and  Promontory  's 
fifty  miles." 

"  But  look  at  our  own  grade,  boy !  It's  almost  to 
Promontory,  itself." 


222          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

"Hi!"  George  chuckled.  "Reckon  we're  bound 
right  through,  across  Utah  for  Humboldt  Wells  in 
Nevada.  And  when  those  two  grades  mix,  some  day, 
there's  liable  to  be  tall  doings  between  the  Paddies  and 
the  Chinks." 

Excitement  continued  to  reign  in  Ogden.  Matters 
had  taken  a  surprising  turn.  The  Union  Pacific  was 
here  first ;  nobody  could  deny  that,  and  it  proceeded  to 
make  good  its  foothold  by  occupying  all  the  ground 
possible,  with  Pat  Miles  laying  a  maze  of  switches  and 
side-tracks  under  the  direction  of  Major  Hurd.  For 
Ogden  was  the  key  to  the  Salt  Lake  Valley  and  the 
vast  trade  with  the  Mormon  settlers  who  would  ship 
out  produce  and  ship  in  supplies.  Salt  Lake  City  was 
only  thirty-five  miles  south  —  a  branch  road  would 
be  built  to  it,  of  course.  Then 

But  the  Central  people  also  were  claiming  Ogden  as 
a  terminal.  They  had  jumped  across  100  miles  of 
country  and  with  Mormon  help  were  running  a  road- 
bed out  of  Ogden  and  eastward  up  Weber  Canyon, 
for  Echo  City,  forty  miles !  They  had  filed  a  map,  at 
Washington,  showing  that  their  line  was  being  com- 
pleted into  Ogden  and  beyond  —  and  almost  on  the 
very  day  that  the  Union  Pacific  track  had  entered 
Ogden  the  Central  Pacific  vice-president,  Mr.  C.  P. 
Huntington,  had  been  given  by  the  Government  a  por- 
tion of  the  payment  due,  at  $32,000  a  mile,  on  that  new 
division  of  the  road. 

"Now  if  the  Gover'mint's  ag'in  us !"  Pat 

complained.  "  Sure,  have  we  got  to  stop  right  here, 
when  our  eyes  are  set  on  Humboldt  Wells,  200  mile  be- 


THE  LAST  STRETCH  223 

yant,  an*  the  ingineers  have  marked  the  way,  an'  the 
tracks  are  ready  to  foller.  Not  a  single  rail  can  the  C. 
Pay.  show,  inside  a  hundred  miles.  B'  gorry,  though, 
they  have  smart  min,  not  countin'  their  pig-tailed  hay- 
then." 

"  We're  going  on !  "  George  announced. 

Being  close  to  the  pay-department  quarters,  he  heard 
considerable  straight  talk;  and  this  time  he  was  not 
mistaken.  Mr.  Sidney  Dillon,  of  the  board  of  direc- 
tors, had  come  out  from  New  York.  He  and  General 
Dodge  and  General  Casement  and  other  officials  had  a 
meeting;  President  Oliver  Ames  and  Vice-President 
Thomas  Durant  had  made  a  big  protest  to  Washington 
and  Congress  was  going  to  investigate  the  claims  of  the 
Central  Pacific ;  the  word  was :  "  Forward,  march,  to 
Humboldt  Wells,"  and,  as  said  Pat :  "  Niver  mind  the 
rice-'atin'  Mongolians.  We'll  tach  'em  how  the  Irish 
handle  the  pick." 

"  We're  getting  out  of  money,  but  don't  you  tell," 
George  confided,  to  Terry,  on  the  quiet.  "  It  took  over 
$10,000,000  extra,  for  the  work  last  winter.  Gosh!  I 
tell  you  we  fellows  in  the  pay-car  have  to  figure  mighty 
close." 

But  the  race  was  on  again,  just  the  same  —  only 
worse.  General  Dodge  and  General  Casement  met  the 
Central  Pacific  deal  by  sending  a  large  gang  of  Paddy's 
track-layers  ahead  200  miles  across  country,  to  begin 
a  track  into  Humboldt  Wells.  And  out  of  Ogden  the 
main  track  was  shoved  toward  Promontory  Point,  with 
the  graders  working  ahead,  on  the  U.  P.  survey. 

Track-laying  had  slackened.     It  was  a  long,  long 


224          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

haul,  now,  from  Omaha,  more  than  1000  miles,  across 
the  plains  where  the  Sioux  were  still  fighting  the  iron 
horse,  and  across  the  mountains  where  the  storms  of 
spring  raged  and  the  snow-slides  ran.  And  the  track- 
layers and  graders  both  had  threatened  to  strike,  be- 
cause of  lack  of  pay. 

But  the  Central  likewise  was  having  trouble.  The 
Central,  too,  was  far  from  its  iron  —  ships  bringing 
the  rails  and  spikes  and  fastenings  around  Cape  Horn 
or  up  from  the  Isthmus  of  Panama  were  sunk,  be- 
calmed, delayed ;  the  Nevada  desert  was  bare  of  forage 
for  the  horses ;  and  for  days  at  a  time  the  Central  work- 
gangs  sat  idle  and  discontented. 

The  two  railroads  resembled  two  staggering  long- 
distance runners,  almost  exhausted  as  each  struggled 
on,  from  opposite  directions,  to  breast  the  tape. 

The  Central  grade  came  eastward  by  its  own  sur- 
vey, which  was  not  at  all  the  Union  Pacific  survey ;  and 
that  was  a  funny  thing  —  the  two  roads  working  as 
hard  as  they  could,  to  meet,  and  yet  not  meeting. 

The  C.  P.  grade  had  swung  around  the  north  end  of 
the  Salt  Lake,  and  down  over  Promontory  Point  — 
which  was  the  high  point  that  jutted  into  the  lake. 
The  U.  P.  grade  had  been  launched  northward  from 
Ogclen,  along  the  lake  shore,  as  if  to  drive  the  C.  P. 
grade  back.  And  slow  work  the  grading  was,  because 
the  country  was  cut  by  streams  and  rocky  ridges,  run- 
ning into  the  boggy  marge  of  the  lake  itself. 

On  some  stretches  the  surveys  were  a  mile  sepa- 
rated—  on  others  they  approached  close  to  each 
other.  The  grades  would  do  the  same. 


THE  LAST  STRETCH  225 

"  As  long  as  the  two  gangs  are  a  mile  apart,  'twill  be 
a  pace f til  country  yon,"  quoth  Pat;  "  for  a  high  fince 
makes  good  neighbors,  ye  understand.  But,"  he  added, 
kindly,  to  Terry,  "  when  they're  a-workin'  side  by 
side  like,  I'd  advise  ye  to  ride  wid  an  eye  open  an* 
an  umbrelly  up.  Some  o'  them  blastin'  crews  are 
liable  to  lay  a  '  grave,'  an'  I  wouldn't  want  ye  hurt." 

Just  what  Pat  meant  by  a  "  grave,"  Terry  did  not 
know,  but  he  was  speedily  to  find  out. 

On  a  morning  when  he  rode  out,  in  advance  of  U. 
P.  end  o'  track,  for  his  regular  "  time  inspection,"  the 
two  grades  were  passing  each  other  at  last.  The  C. 
P.  grade  was  holding  to  the  higher  ground,  here. 
The  long  line  of  busy  Chinamen  ("  Crocker's  pets," 
they  were  called,  Mr.  Charles  Crocker  being  the  C.  P. 
superintendent  of  construction)  were  toiling  away, 
with  pick  and  spade  and  wheel-barrow,  right  above 
the  long  line  of  flannel-shirted  Irishmen  building  the 
U.  P.  grade. 

The  Chinamen  were  saying  scarcely  a  word,  and 
casting  scarcely  a  glance.  They  trotted  with  their 
barrows,  and  pecked  with  short  little  stabs,  but  they 
swarmed  like  rats.  The  Irish  laughed  among  them- 
selves, making  remarks  not  at  all  complimentary  to 
their  rivals. 

As  Terry  approached  a  cut,  he  suddenly  ran  into  a 
blast.  That  is,  before  ever  he  saw  the  red  flag  of 
danger,  cautious  voices  in  low  tone,  and  sly  gestures 
warned  him. 

"  Whisht,  now !     Look  out.     Stand  where  ye  be." 

There  was  no  red  flag,  and  no  shout;  but  heads 


226          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

were  being  turned,  along  the  grade  —  in  the  cut  the 
men  were  pausing,  poised,  ready  to  jump  —  every- 
body seemed  aware,  except  the  Chinamen  above  the 
cut;  and  amidst  a  sudden  scattering  for  cover  by  the 
cut  men,  up  burst  the  blast  itself. 

The  rocks  soared  high,  specking  the  air,  and  rained 
down,  volleying  among  the  Chinamen.  The  China- 
men squeaked  with  fright,  and  ducked  and  scurried, 
but  several  were  bowled  over. 

This  appeared  to  tickle  the  Irish  graders  immensely. 
They  pretended  to  pay  no  attention;  only  grinned 
broadly,  as  they  resumed  work,  while  the  Chinamen 
yelped  protests,  and  shook  helpless  fists. 

"  But  maybe  you  killed  some  of  'em,  Mike,"  Terry 
gasped,  considerably  flustered,  himself. 

"  Them  Chinks? "  rasped  Big  Mike,  the  grade  boss 
here.  "  Aw,  now,  don't  ye  worry.  Let  'em  look  out 
for  themselves.  Our  orders  be,  to  pay  no  attintion 
to  the  C.  Pay.  grade;  we've  our  own  work.  What 
are  they  doin'  here,  anyhow,  right  ferninst  the  blast- 
in'?  They  ought  to  know  enough  to  kape  away. 
An'  a  '  grave '  is  a  blessin'  to  a  Chinyman  —  for  as 
soon  as  he's  dead,  ain't  he  sint  back  to  the  ould 
country  ?  " 

So  that  was  a  "  grave,"  was  it?  Huh!  After  that 
Terry  moved  cautiously,  when  taking  time;  for  other 
"  graves "  were  "  opened "  by  the  cunning  U.  P. 
graders.  They  willingly  enough  dodged  the  rocks, 
themselves,  in  the  hopes  of  "  burying "  some  of  the 
timid  "  Crocker's  pets." 

Superintendent  Crocker  made  complaint  straight  to 


THE  LAST  STRETCH  227 

General  Casement  and  General  Dodge;  and  General 
Casement  and  Superintendent  Reed  ordered  Big  Mike 
to  stop  that  nonsense  among  his  men.  Big  Mike  only 
promised  —  and  that  day  another  "  grave "  was 
laid. 

Then  the  Chinamen  took  matters  into  their  own 
hands.  They  also  "  opened "  a  "  grave,"  smack 
above  a  bevy  of  the  Irish.  It  was  a  large  one;  it 
buried  three  Irishmen  completely  —  killed  two  of 
them  and  wounded  half  a  dozen  others. 

Big  Mike  was  reported  to  have  at  first  roared  like  a 
bull,  for  revenge,  and  to  have  finished  by  scratching 
his  thatch  ruefully. 

"  B'  gorry,"  he  said,  "  if  it's  a  game  two  can  play 
at,  they  have  the  advantage  o'  position.  Before  me 
min  get  nervous  mebbe  we'd  better  call  it  quits." 

And  back  at  end  o'  track  Pat  remarked : 

"  'Tis  a  wonder  them  haythens  didn't  have  the  same 
sinse  before.  Now  I  guess  there'll  be  no  more 
'  graves,'  yon,  o'  that  kind." 

U.  P.  end  o'  track  was  twenty  miles  out  of  Ogden, 
and  half  way  to  Promontory  Point.  C.  P.  end  o' 
track  was  eighty  miles  out,  or  thirty  miles  the  other 
side  of  Promontory  Point.  One  end  o'  track  was 
going  one  way,  the  other  end  o'  track  was  coming  the 
other  way;  but  they  were  not  aimed  to  meet! 

"  On  to  Humboldt  Wells,"  was  the  slogan  of  the 
Union  Pacific. 

"On  to  Ogden,"  was  the  slogan  of  the  Central 
Pacific. 

Not  until  the  U.  P.  grade  had  climbed  Promon- 


228          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

tory,  to  join  with  its  grade  in  the  desert  beyond,  and 
the  C.  P.  grade  was  touching  Ogden,  did  the  fresh 
news  break. 

Pat  received  a  telegram,  read  it,  and  burst  into  a 
flurry. 

"It's  all  off!  The  orders  be  for  us  to  join  ind  o' 
track  wid  the  Cintral  ind  atop  o'  Promontory  Summit 
—  an'  shame  on  us  if  we  let  'em  bate  us  there.  A 
holiday  in  Salt  Lake  City  wid  full  pay  for  iv'ry  man 
o'  yez  if  yez'll  step  on  the  tails  of  the  tie-layers  wid 
your  rails." 

So  it  was  to  be  a  race  for  the  meeting  at  Promon- 
tory Summit !  Distance  to  go :  Union  Pacific,  twenty- 
eight  miles;  Central  Pacific,  thirty  miles.  The  tele- 
graph was  already  in  operation,  waiting  to  announce 
the  victor,  to  the  world. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE   U.    P.    BREASTS   THE   TAPE 

"  THE  C.  P.  say  they  can  lay  ten  miles  of  track  in 
one  day  and  Mr.  Durant  has  telegraphed  $10,000  to 
say  they  can't  do  it !  " 

This  was  the  excited  greeting  by  George  Stanton, 
when  Terry  met  the  pay-car  in  the  latest  "  roaring  " 
town  of  Blue  Creek,  at  the  base  of  Promontory  Point 
on  the  U.  P.  side. 

Blue  Creek  station  was  not  really  a  town;  it  was 
more  of  a  higglety-pigglety  railroad  camp,  but  it 
seemed  to  know  no  law.  The  Home  Cooking  restau- 
rant appeared  to  be  about  the  only  decent  place  there. 
Nevertheless,  there  it  was,  just  the  same,  arrived  in 
its  last  move  on  the  long  journey  from  Cheyenne, 
more  than  500  miles.  The  "  Heroines  of  the  U.  P." 
had  set  out  to  keep  near  their  "  men  folks,"  and  bring 
"home"  to  them  whenever  possible.  Old  119,  with 
Engineer  Richards  in  the  cab,  was  still  plying  back 
and  forth,  in  the  fore;  and  George's  father  was  ex- 
pected any  day,  called  in  from  the  Nevada  surveys. 

As  soon  as  the  two  companies,  directed  by  Congress, 
had  decided  to  join  ends  o'  tracks  upon  Promontory 
Point,  all  advance  grading  and  surveying  had  ceased. 
The  C.  P.  had  graded  eighty  miles  east  from  Promon- 
tory Point,  or  almost  to  Echo  City;  the  U.  P.  had 

229 


230          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

graded  220  miles  west  from  Ogden,  or  to  Humboldt 
Wells,  and  had  laid  eighty  miles  of  track  this  way 
from  Humboldt  Wells;  but  there  was  nothing  doing 
now.  The  work  had  all  been  wasted. 

So  the  majority  of  the  graders  had  been  discharged. 
A  number  of  them  still  hung  around,  though,  waiting 
for  the  tracks  to  join.  They  helped  to  form  the  U. 
P.  camp  of  Blue  Creek;  and  on  the  desert  over  beyond 
the  Summit  they  helped  to  form  the  on-coming  C.  P. 
camp. 

Everybody  was  keen  to  hear  if  the  Central  had 
anything  yet  to  say  about  the  U.  P.  track-laying 
record.  Time  was  growing  short.  But  the  Central 
had  said  little.  It  was  reported  that  they  had  had 
hard  luck.  Iron  was  scarce,  and  in  order  to  make  up 
for  lost  hours  they  had  laid  track  at  night,  by  the  light 
of  sage-brush  bonfires.  Now  they  were  out  of  rails, 
again.  Their  "  iron  train,"  as  they  called  it,  had  been 
ditched,  by  a  broken  trestle. 

The  Union  Pacific  crept  on,  here  to  the  foot  of 
Promontory  Point  of  the  rugged  Promontory  Range; 
the  meeting  place  agreed  upon  was  only  nine  miles  up 
and  over,  and  the  track-layers  might  take  things  a 
little  easy. 

But  the  Central  had  braced;  they  had  the  spirit, 
all  right,  and  those  seven  and  five-eighths  miles  as  a 
challenge  did  not  bluff  them. 

George  brought  the  answer. 

"  We'll  lay  ten  miles  of  track  in  one  day's  stint," 
was  the  telegraphed  announcement  of  Super intendent* 
Crocker. 


THE  U.  P.  BREASTS  THE' TAPE      231 

"Ten  thousand  dollars  that  you  can't  do  it,"  was 
the  reply  of  Mr.  Durant,  the  U.  P.  vice-president, 
from  New  York.  "  Choose  your  time  and  place  and 
we'll  have  men  there  to  see." 

"Tin  miles?  Those  fellers?"  Pat  scoffed.) 
"  Eight's  the  limit  o'  any  gang.  Haven't  we  stumped 
'em  wid  sivin  an'  a  bit?  If  they  lay  tin  miles  I'll 
crawl  over  it  on  me  hands  an'  knees  wid  me  nose 
countin'  the  ties!  " 

"When'll  they  try?  Did  you  hear?"  demanded 
Terry,  of  George. 

"  No.  All  I  saw  was  in  the  Ogden  paper.  Expect 
they'll  choose  the  levelest  place  they  have.  You  bet 
I'm  going  to  be  there." 

"So  am  I!" 

"  We'll  all  be  there,"  Pat  proclaimed.  "  For  we'll 
have  nothin'  else  to  do.  Wid  only  nine  miles  yet  to 
lay  we'll  all  be  on  vacation  soon;  an'  if  they  don't 
finish  their  tin  miles,  the  Irish  will  stand  ready  to  help 
'em  along  to  the  meetin'  spot." 

"  How  far  out  are  they?  "  asked  George. 

"  Eighteen  or  twenty  miles.     That  wreck  stopped 


'em." 


Up  Promontory  Point  the  U.  P.  rails  labored,  for 
the  finish ;  with  trestles  and  curves,  and  several  switch- 
backs that  doubled  like  the  letter  "  S  " —  for  there 
were  grades  of  no  feet  to  the  mile,  and  the  cuts  and 
fills  were  many.  Water  had  to  be  hauled  in  tanks, 
again,  for  cooking  and  drinking.  In  fact  this  finish 
was  one  of  the  toughest  pulls  in  all  the  1,080  miles. 

On  April  27,  they  topped  the  last  rise.     This  sum- 


232          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

mit  of  Promontory  Point  was  a  flattish  plateau,  drop- 
ping off  at  the  other  side  into  the  desert.  The  grade 
led  almost  straight  across  —  a  mile  and  a  half  or  two 
miles  there  was  a  collection  of  tents  and  shacks,  and 
the  men  paused  to  stare. 

"  The  meetin'  place  ?  Is  that  yon  the  meetin'  place, 
ye  say  ?  " 

"Right,  me  bullies,"  Pat  encouraged.  "  Tis  the 
ind  o'  550  miles  o'  rails  laid  in  thirteen  months,  b' 
gorry,  not  countin'  the  eighty  that's  been  wasted.  So 
we'll  knock  off  'arly,  an'  tomorrow  we'll  make  in 
—  an  be  f rish  for  the  nixt  mornin'  when  the  Cintral 
Chinks  start  to  lay  their  tin  that  they're  braggin'  be- 
forehand about.  Sure,  that'll  lave  'em  four  miles  yit. 
Like  as  not  they'll  nade  help  wid  their  finish." 

"  It's  a  quare  meetin'  place,  where  there's  nothin' 
to  meet,"  some  of  the  men  laughed.  "  S'pose  we 
tiligraph  Congress,  just  sayin'  that  th'  U.  Pay.'ll  kape 
a-goin'  an'  save  th'  C.  Pay.  th'  bother." 

"  Not  much !  Tin  miles  o'  track  are  they  to  lay  in 
wan  day,  remember,  wid  us  a-lookin'  on." 

Mr.  J.  H.  Strobridge,  the  C.  P.  superintendent  of 
track  construction,  finally  had  sent  word  to  Mr.  Reed, 
the  U.  P.  superintendent,  that  on  April  29  the  Central 
would  lay  their  ten  miles  of  track,  from  a  point  four- 
teen miles  short  of  the  meeting  place.  He  invited  the 
U.  P.  to  send  witnesses  —  President  Leland  Stan- 
ford, of  the  Central  Pacific  (and  ex-governor  of 
California),  and  other  C.  P.  officials  would  be  there. 

"  We'll  be  there,  too,"  had  wired  back  Mr.  Reed. 

"  We'll  be  there,"  had  asserted  Pat. 


THE  U.  P.  BREASTS  THE  TAPE      233 

Before  noon  of  April  28,  the  U.  P.  end  o'  track 
came  to  a  rest  near  the  idling  camp  of  Promontory, 
where  a  lot  of  ex-graders  were  squatted,  and  gam- 
blers, eating-house  keepers,  liquor  sellers  and  real- 
estate  boomers  had  arrived,  to  await  events. 

One  rail's  length  short  of  the  stake  and  flag,  the 
track  stopped  —  obeying  orders  from  Mr.  Reed. 

Hats  were  flung  into  the  air,  tools  went  hurtling, 
cheers  rang  riotous,  and  George,  who  had  hopped  a 
ride  up  from  Blue  Creek,  so  as  to  be  on  hand,  danced 
a  war-dance  with  Terry. 

"Done!     Hurrah!     Done!" 

"  Why  do  yez  say  *  done/  when  'tain't  done  at  all, 
at  all  ?  "  reproved  red-headed  little  Jimmie  Muldoon, 
severely.  "  Do  yez  expec'  the  ingines  to  walk  the  ties, 
th'  same  as  me  horse?  It  won't  be  done  until  th'  C. 
Pay.  lay  their  fourteen  mile  —  an'  Pat  says  that 
mebbe  we'll  have  to  fall  in  an'  help  'em." 

"  Well,  we're  done,  all  but  twenty-eight  feet,"  re- 
torted George.  "  And  if  the  C.  P.  lay  their  ten  miles 
tomorrow,  they'll  be  about  done.  Four  miles  more  is 
nothing.  Not  out  of  nearly  2,000.  We  all  can  pitch 
in  and  lay  that  in  an  hour.  Come  on,  Terry,  let's 
figure." 

They  sat  down,  to  figure. 

Union  Pacific:  forty  miles  of  track  laid  in  1865; 
260  miles  in  1866;  246  miles  in  1867;  425  miles  in 
1868,  and  now  125,  in  the  four  months  of  1869  — 
which  made,  as  Pat  said,  550  miles  in  thirteen  months, 
not  counting  the  sidings  and  switches,  and  the  eighty 
miles  at  Humboldt  Wells. 


234 


OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 


And  look  at  the  grading !  From  Sherman  to  Hum- 
boldt  Wells  —  725  miles,  in  the  same  thirteen  months. 

"  I  reckon  nobody's  going  to  beat  that,  for  a 
while,"  vaunted  George,  the  boss  figurer. 

"  Reckon  not,  boy.  But  the  C.  P.  have  done  pretty 
well.  While  we've  been  building  1,086  miles,  and 
that  extra  *  Z '  of  near  ten  miles  more,  they've  been 
building  something  like  675,  with  those  fourteen  miles 
yet  to  go  on;  but  they'll  match  our  550  miles  in  thir- 
teen months  with  549,  'cording  to  Major  Kurd.  Not 
much  difference  —  huh  ?  " 

"  Shucks !  Don't  forget  our  other  eighty.  And 
besides,  you  fellows  have  been  sort  of  loafing  along, 
lately;  and  now  you're  sitting  here  waiting.  You 
could  have  been  past  'em  and  part  way  to  Humboldt 
Wells,  if  the  Government  hadn't  stopped  you.  You've 
been  bucking  the  mountains,  too,  while  they've  had  the 
desert." 

"  They  had  the  mountains  in  the  beginning  and  we 
had  the  plains,"  Terry  reminded.  "  But,  anyhow,  if 
they'll  lay  ten  miles  of  track  tomorrow,  I'll  take  off  my 
hat  to  the  Chinks." 

"  So'll  I,"  George  agreed. 

"  I'll  ate  mine,"  declared  Jimmie  Muldoon.  "  An' 
I'll  ate  my  brother's,  too.  But  say :  is  that  what  your 
riggers  show?  Have  \ve  all  come  wid  the  rails  550 
miles  in  scarce  more'n  wan  year? " 

"  Sure  thing,  Jimmie." 

"  Glory  be !  "  sighed  Jimmie.  "  An'  me  on  the 
back  of  a  horse,  doublin'  the  distance  tin  times  iv'ry 
mile !  Faith,  I'll  ride  back  on  the  train.  An'  what's 


THE  U.  P.  BREASTS  THE  TAPE      235 

th'  whole  distance,  by  miles,  from  Omyha  to  this  place 
here?" 

"  One  thousand  and  eighty-six  miles,  Jimmie." 

Jimmie  uttered  an  Irish  whoop. 

"  I've  ridden  a  horse  around  the  world,"  he  shouted. 
"But  wance  is  enough.  A  reg'lar  cin-4aur  I  be!" 

George  had  leave  to  spend  the  rest  of  the  day  here. 
That  was  good.  It  insured  his  being  on  hand  bright 
and  early,  for  the  great  event,  tomorrow. 

The  track-layers  knocked  off  work.  With  many 
of  them,  the  long  job  was  finished.  Only  a  few  were 
to  be  needed,  now,  and  the  rest  only  waited  for  their 
pay,  or  for  the  joining  of  the  tracks. 

They  lay  around,  smoking  their  pipes,  or  celebrated 
in  the  Promontory  camp,  or  proceeded  down  to  Blue 
Creek,  where  there  was  more  amusement.  A  crew 
of  the  -track  ballasters  proceeded  to  settle  the  ties. 
The  boarding  train  stood  at  ease,  and  the  construction- 
train,  having  unloaded,  pulled  out  for  Blue  Creek,  it- 
self. Jimmie  Muldoon  and  his  brother  turned  their 
rail-truck  horses  out  to  grass. 

The  grade  stretched  on,  across  the  flat  summit,  west- 
ward still,  and  out  of  sight.  Its  ties  had  all  been 
placed;  it  needed  only  the  Central  Pacific  rails.  A 
few  Chinamen  were  working  on  it. 

The  summit  of  Promontory  Point  was  a  sort  of 
pass  over  the  end  of  Promontory  Range.  It  was  a 
plateau,  covered  with  grass  and  sage-brush  —  a 
basin  held  between  a  high  ridge  north  and  a  high 
ridge  south.  Only  a  glimpse  of  the  shining  Salt  Lake 
might  be  seen.  But  by  climbing  the  south  ridge,  a 
fellow  got  a  fine  view. 


236          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

From  here,  all  the  mighty  lake  lay  outspread,  be- 
low, fringed  by  its  mountains  and  broken  by  its  islands 
—  one  could  see  the  smoke  of  Ogden,  thirty  or  so 
miles  in  air-line  although  fifty-two  by  track,  and  even 
of  Salt  Lake  City,  farther  southeastward.  And  where 
the  grade  westward  dipped  down  from  the  plateau, 
into  the  sagy  desert,  could  be  sighted  the  construction 
camp  of  the  Central  Pacific  people,  fourteen  miles 
away. 

"  There's  a  big  crowd  of  'em,  all  right,"  Terry  re- 
marked. 

"  It'll  take  a  big  crowd  to  bring  up  the  stuff  for  ten 
miles  of  track  at  once,  and  have  iron  and  everything 
ready." 

"Well,"  mused  Terry,  "maybe  they'll  do  it  and 
maybe  they  won't;  but  I  wish  our  men  could  have  a 
try." 

When  they  went  down  to  camp,  General  Dodge  and 
General  Casement  were  inspecting  the  ground  in  com- 
pany with  two  visitors.  One  of  these  was  a  fine-look- 
ing, trimmed-beard  man  in  black  broad-cloth  (some- 
what dusty)  and  black  soft  hat  with  wide  brim. 

"  That's  the  Honorable  Leland  Stanford,  ex-gov- 
ernor of  California  —  the  Central's  president,  and  a 
powerful  smart  man,"  said  the  report  in  the  U.  P. 
camp. 

The  other  was  an  energetic,  heavy-set  man,  with 
masterful  gray-blue  eyes,  a  determined  mouth,  and 
face  smooth-shaven  except  for  a  thick  moustache. 

He  was  Mr.  Charles  Crocker,  the  Central's  road- 
builder —  the  man  who  had  hustled  the  work  while 


THE  U.  P.  BREASTS  THE  TAPE      237 

Governor  Stanford  in  the  West  and  Mr.  Huntingdon, 
the  vice-president,  in  the  East,  managed  the  money 
end. 

The  two  Central  officials  started  to  ride  back  to 
their  own  line. 

"  By  this  time  tomorrow,  gentlemen,  we'll  be  near- 
ing  the  end  of  our  ten  miles,"  Governor  Stanford 
bantered,  on  parting,  as  they  turned  their  horses. 

"  You  have  our  best  wishes ;  you  can't  come  on  any 
too  fast,  for  us  —  but  we'll  be  here  to  check  up  on 
you,"  laughed  General  Dodge. 

He  and  General  Casement  passed  near  Terry  and 
George,  who,  like  the  other  men,  respectfully  saluted. 
General  Dodge  checked  his  horse. 

"  What  do  you  boys  think  of  this  ten-mile-in-a-day 
proposition  ?  "  he  queried,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  tired 
eyes.  "  How  about  it,  Terry  ?  You've  watched  our 
Paddies  for  800  miles,  and  General  Casement  says 
they  can  beat  the  world." 

"If  the  Central  can  lay  ten  miles,  our  men  can  lay 
eleven,  sir,"  Terry  stoutly  replied. 

'*  Thank  Heaven,  they  won't  have  to,"  rapped  Gen- 
eral Casement.  "  But  I'll  wager  that  they  could,  my- 
self." 

This  evening,  and  into  the  night,  the  bonfires  of 
sage-brush  built  by  the  U.  P.  camp  were  answered  by 
the  distant  glow  of  the  bonfires  built  by  the  C.  P. 
camp.  The  two  camps  were  like  the  camps  of  two 
armies  waiting  for  a  test  of  strength  on  the  morrow. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE   C.    P.    SHOW   THEIR   METTLE 

SEVEN  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  April  29,  1869. 

Since  before  daybreak  the  people  from  the  U.  P. 
camp  had  been  streaming  westward  down  the  grade, 
toward  the  C.  P.  camp.  Afoot,  ahorse  and  by 
wagon  they  hastened  along,  to  arrive  in  time  for  the 
track-laying  contest. 

Track  Boss  Paddy  Miles  was  here,  with  Big  Mike 
the  grading  boss,  in  a  graders'  wagon;  George  had 
found  a  mule  for  hire,  and  had  ridden  over  with 
Terry;  the  two  Muldoon  lads  were  here,  on  their 
gaunt  rail-truck  nags;  half  of  Promontory  was  here; 
General  Dodge,  General  Casement  and  his  brother  Dan 
Casement,  Superintendent  Reed,  Major  Hurd  —  they 
had  come  up  from  below;  and  there  was  a  dele- 
gation of  U.  P.  surveyors  and  Mormon  citizens,  from 
Ogden  and  even  from  Salt  Lake  City. 

The  edge  of  the  plateau  was  alive  with  wagons, 
carts,  horses,  mules,  and  figures  on  foot,  forging  on 
for  the  Central  end  o'  track. 

The  Central  folks  seemed  to  be  in  no  great  hurry. 
The  sun  was  above  the  Wasatch  Range,  pouring  his 
beams  upon  the  plateau  and  ridges  of  Promontory 
Point.  At  the  very  tip  of  the  Central  track  waited  the 
C.  P.  rail-truck,  or  iron-car  —  a  low  flat-car  shorter 
than  the  U.  P.  rail-trucks.  It  was  heaped  high  with 

238 


THE  C.  P.  SHOW  THEIR  METTLE     239 

rails,  spikes  and  fastenings ;  and  on  either  side  of  end 
o'  track  were  other  piles  of  iron. 

A  long  iron-train,  and  the  boarding-train  behind  it, 
stood  with  steam  up,  as  far  forward  as  they  could  get. 
Ranged  along  the  iron-truck  the  rail-placers  were 
ready ;  they  were  white  —  for,  as  Pat  said,  "  yez 
can't  get  along  widout  the  whites,  no  matter  how  many 
Chinymin  yez  have !  "  Behind  this  squad  were  the 
first  spikers  and  bolters  ("  white  min,  too,  mark  ye!  ") 
and  two  groups  of  Chinamen,  also  with  sledges  and 
with  wrenches.  And  behind  these  extended,  in  paral- 
lel lines  two  deep,  still  more  Chinamen  —  the  ballasters 
with  spades  and  picks. 

A  host  of  other  Chinamen  were  gathered,  chatter- 
ing and  laughing,  to  watch  the  work  begin. 

Now  the  U.  P.  men  had  a  good  chance  to  size  up 
the  C.  P.  track-crew  and  grade-builders  —  mainly 
those  "  haythen  Chinese  "  who  lived  on  tea,  rice  and 
pork  (and  rats,  as  Pat  asserted) ;  who  fed  no  "  roar- 
ing" towns,  who  did  not  get  drunk,  who  gave  no 
trouble  to  the  bosses,  and  who  asked  only  their  dollar* 
a-day,  and  tended  strictly  to  business;  but  who  had 
been  buried  by  snow  in  the  Sierras,  had  worked  in  the 
fire-light  on  the  soda-whitened  Nevada  desert,  and 
now  were  arrayed  to  "  show  the  Melicans." 

The  track  boss  was  white  —  Hi  Minkler;  Mr. 
H.  H.  Minkler,  that  is.  He  was  passing  to  and  fro, 
with  sly  words  to  keep  the  crews  on  edge.  The  man 
who  met  the  U.  P.  officials  and  ushered  them  on  to 
Governor  Stanford  and  the  other  Central  officials  was 
Mr.  James  Campbell,  superintendent  of  the  C.  P.  Salt 


240  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

Lake  Division.  Mr.  Strobridge,  the  C.  P.  construc- 
tion superintendent,  shook  hands  with  the  U.  P.  sup- 
erintendent, Mr.  Reed;  and  Mr.  Crocker,  the  C.  P. 
chief  of  construction,  who  ranked  the  same  as  Gen- 
eral Casement,  bustled  anxiously  here  and  there,  on 
last  inspections. 

"Gee!     They'd  better  begin,'*  spoke  George. 

"  Longer  they  wait,  the  better  for  us,"  proposed 
Terry. 

"Don't  you  want  'em  to  win  out?" 

"I  dunno.  Why  —  yes,  sure!  If  they  can  do 
it,  let  'em.  I  guess  they  deserve  it,  and  'twon't  harm 
anybody.  The  U.  P.  is  through.  We  beat  to  Pro- 
montory." 

Mr.  Strobridge  had  been  looking  at  his  watch. 
He  snapped  it  shut,  instantly  caught  Track  Boss 
Minkler's  eyes  — "  Go  ahead !  "  he  barked. 

"  Lay  to  it!  "  roared  Boss  Minkler. 

The  air  rocked  to  a  sudden  peal  of  cheers;  but  be- 
fore the  first  note  had  issued,  four  rails  at  once  were 
being  laid;  the  nearest  two  rails  on  either  side  of  the 
rail  car  had  been  seized,  each,  by  two  men  with  tongs 
or  nippers,  carried  forward  at  a  run,  and  plunked 
down  upon  the  ties  as  a  starter! 

Right  away,  without  waiting  for  spikes  or  bolts, 
a  crew  of  other  men  had  put  their  shoulders  to  the 
little  car  and  rolled  it  onward  to  the  end  of  the  second 
pair  of  rails;  the  first  spikers  and  bolters  jumped  to 
set  a  couple  of  spikes,  clap  on  the  fish-plate  fasteners, 
and  thrust  a  bolt  or  so  through,  while  the  gaugers  meas- 
ured and  two  crow-bar  men  stood  ready  to  line  up. 


THE  C  P.  SHOW  THEIR  METTLE     241 

The  Chinese  spikers  and  bolt-screwers  were  on 
their  heels,  to  drive  the  spikes  and  tighten  the  fish- 
plate bolts  —  but  before  this  another  pair  of  rails  were 
down  and  the  rail-car  had  advanced  again ! 

In  their  parallel  double  lines  the  Chinese  ballasters 
were  coming,  like  a  well-drilled  company.  They 
numbered  fifty.  The  inner  lines  carried  spades,  the 
outer  lines  carried  picks.  The  spades  scraped  and 
shoveled  and  tamped,  between  the  ties;  the  picks  rose 
and  fell,  piling  up  the  dirt  along  the  ends;  thus  the 
ties  were  settled  and  the  track  leveled,  like  lightning. 

"  Keep  back,  everybody !  "  shouted  Superintendent 
Strobridge,  as  the  people  crowded  and  craned. 

"  In  the  name  o'  the  saints,  wad  yez  look  at  'em 
travel!  "  That  was  the  exclamation  of  Paddy  Miles, 
who  had  pressed  afoot  into  the  front  rank  of  specta- 
tors, and  was  staring  agape. 

General  Casement  had  his  watch  out. 

"  Five  lengths  of  rail  to  the  minute !  "  he  announced. 

"  Gee !  One  hundred  and  forty  feet ! "  gasped 
George.  "  How  many  minutes  to  the  mile,  then?" 

"  Not  much  over  thirty.  They're  liable  to  do  two 
miles  an  hour,  if  they  keep  up,"  Terry  calculated. 

The  rail-truck  was  partly  unloaded ;  at  a  bark  from 
Boss  Minkler  a  lot  of  Chinamen  dumped  the  remain- 
ing rails  at  end  o'  track  —  and  back  down  track 
rumbled  the  car,  its  crew  at  a  dead  run,  for  the  near 
supply  while  the  rail-layers  were  working. 

It  had  not  stopped  before  it  was  being  reloaded  at 
top  pace;  and  back  it  charged,  for  end  o'  track  again. 
The  Chinamen  in  its  path  barely  sprang  aside;  then 
bent  once  more  to  their  jobs. 


242  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

The  track  had  been  lengthened  by  half  a  mile! 
"Toot,  toot!"  and  "  Toot,  toot!"  signaled  the  two 
engines  at  rear.  Here  they  came,  too,  with  their 
fresh  supplies,  halted  upon  the  newly  laid  track, 
dumped  more  ammunition,  and  backed  out,  to  clear. 

The  work  never  slackened  for  the  trotting  rail- 
layers  to  ease  their  arms.  The  spikers  and  bolters 
pushed  them  hard  —  the  Chinamen  rarely  uttered  a 
word,  as  they  shuffled  forward,  machine-like.  Every 
man  on  the  job  was  dripping  with  sweat.  The  car 
crew  —  Chinamen,  they  —  strained  and  panted  as 
they  shoved  at  the  heavy  car ;  suddenly  at  a  word  they 
fell  out  and  another  crew  dived  into  their  places. 

Along  the  squads  from  rear  to  front  and  back  to 
rear  hurried  the  water-carriers,  with  dippers  and 
splashing  buckets,  ladling  right  and  left. 

To  keep  up  with  the  rails  the  crowd  had  to  be  con- 
stantly on  the  move,  themselves;  end  o'  track  was 
always  getting  away  from  them. 

It  all  was  so  exciting  that  time  flew,  like  the  track. 

"  Major  Hurd  says  eight-thirty  —  one  hour,"  ut- 
tered George.  "  And  now  look  at  where  they  started, 
at  those  last  tents.  Back  a  mile  and  a  half,  or  more !  " 

"  Don't  believe  they  can  keep  it  up." 

"  They've  got  4,000  men  to  draw  on ;  mostly 
Chinks." 

"  Only  so  many  can  work  at  once.  It  takes  a  lot  of 
practice  to  lay  rails  and  drive  spikes  just  right." 

"If  they  do  keep  it  up,  they'll  have  time  to  spare. 
Maybe  they'll  go  straight  on  to  the  U.  P.  track,  four- 
teen miles !  " 


THE  C  P.  SHOW  THEIR  METTLE     243 

The  C.  P.  men  were  so  well  drilled  that  they  worked 
without  signals.  "  Plunk,  plink,  plink,  plank/* 
sounded  the  rails,  dropped  as  regularly  as  a  clock  ticks 
—  a  pair  of  rails  every  ten  seconds!  "Whang, 
whang,  whang,  whang  whangity-whang,  whang, 
whang!"  clanged  the  sledges,  with  one  continuous 
rapid-fire.  The  spades  rang  and  the  picks  thudded, 
and  the  Chinamen  grunted.  Up  to  end  o'  track,  end 
o'  track,  end  o'  track  again,  rolled  the  iron-truck  — 
every  minute,  as  seemed,  boomed  back,  shoved  by  its 
sweating  crew,  for  another  supply,  and  charged  in 
through  the  midst  of  the  pig-tailed,  grunting  bal- 
lasters,  who  flowed  together  again  in  its  wake.  The 
iron-train  edged  onward,  ready. 

Track  Boss  Minkler  held  the  fore,  darting  from 
crew  to  crew,  inspecting,  scolding,  praising,  calling  the 
attention  of  the  gang  bosses  to  now  this,  now  that,  and 
seeing  that  the  rails  did  not  lack.  He  was  sweaty  and 
grimy  —  worked  as  hard  as  any  other  man.  Pat 
Miles  could  have  done  no  more. 

Chief  Superintendent  Crocker  rode  restlessly  hither- 
thither,  along  the  whole  line  from  train  to  end  oj 
track  —  appeared  to  see  nothing  but  the  job,  and  he 
saw  everything  there. 

"  Lay  to  it,  boys.  Workee  allee  time  chop-chop, 
John.  No  stopee  till  topside  ten  miles.  Sabee  ?  " 

And  the  Chinamen  answered,  with  shrill  little  yaps : 

"  Hi-yah,  Meestee  Clocky.  Workee  chop-chop,  you 
bet." 

"  Golly !  At  the  third  mile-stake,  already,"  said 
George,  while  the  procession  moved  on.  "  'Tisn't 
more  than  nine  o'clock,  either! " 


244          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

"Shucks!"  Terry  blurted.  "These  C.  P.  fellows 
could  build  a  whole  track,  grade  and  all,  ten  miles  in  a 
day,  at  the  rate  they're  going.  Wonder  if  they'll 
quit  for  noon." 

"  They've  got  the  dead-wood  on  Paddy  Miles, 
sure,"  George  chuckled.  "  Look  at  him,  with  his 
mouth  open  and  his  pipe  out !  " 

Higher  rose  the  hot  sun;  still  the  rails  clanked,  and 
the  sledges  whanged,  and  the  iron-truck  rumbled,  and 
the  picks  thudded,  and  the  spades  scraped,  and  ever 
and  anon  the  two  trains  tooted  their  "  coming  up  " 
signal.  The  air  fairly  quivered  with  action. 

The  sight  was  fascinating:  the  rail-layers,  four  on 
a  side,  always  on  the  run ;  the  gangers,  clapping  their 
gauges  to  each  pair  of  rails  as  soon  as  dropped;  the 
rail-truck,  with  its  load  projecting  fore  and  aft,  and 
its  pusher  crew  straining  with  bowed  backs ;  the  spike 
and  bolt  placers,  who  never  straightened  but  scurried, 
head  down,  on  the  heels  of  the  pushers;  the  Chinese 
sledge  men  and  wrench  men,  pressing  closely;  the  two 
double  lines  of  ballasters,  as  busy  and  as  orderly  as 
marching  ants;  Boss  Minkler  and  Big  Boss  Crocker 
prancing  and  urging;  the  iron-train  dumping  ahead  of 
time  and  pulling  out  for  more ;  and  all  the  grassy,  sagy 
slope,  under  a  blue  sky  and  fringed  by  desert  moun- 
tains, thronged  with  the  intent  spectators  wearing 
every  sort  of  garb,  from  Governor  Stanford's  broad- 
cloth and  General  Dodge's  corduroys,  down  to  the 
U.  P.  red-flannel  shirts  and  the  C.  P.  cotton  blouses. 

"  Great  Scott !  More  than  five  miles,  and  they 
aren't  going  to  stop  for  noon,"  Terry  gasped. 


THE  C  P.  SHOW  THEIR  METTLE     245 

They  didn't.  They  went  right  along,  for  another 
hour  —  they  went  along,  until  on  a  sudden  Mr. 
Crocker  reined  his  horse  at  end  o'  track,  raised  his 
hand,  dropped  it  sharply,  as  if  driving  a  lance  — 

"  That'll  do.     Knock  off." 

The  men  straightened,  and  stared  about  dazed, 
while  they  wiped  their  brows. 

"  The  six-mile  stake,  and  the  new  station  of  Vic- 
tory," shouted  Mr.  Crocker,  to  the  crowd  around. 
"  One  thirty  o'clock.  Six  miles  of  track  laid  in  six 
hours.  We'll  take  an  hour's  rest." 

"  B'  jabers,  yez've  earned  it,"  Pat  bawled,  just  as  a 
great  cheer  answered  the  announcement.  "  Take  two 
hours;  take  thray." 

Mr.  Crocker  again  raised  his  hand,  for  silence. 

"  There'll  be  dinner  for  all,  right  here.  Superin- 
tendent Campbell  is  bringing  up  the  boarding-train." 

The  exhausted  track-gang  tossed  down  their  tools, 
and  staggered  aside,  to  drink,  and  wash,  and  throw 
themselves  down,  also,  for  a  breather  until  the  cooks 
beat  the  dinner  gongs. 

The  dinner  was  served  upon  long  tables  set  up  in  a 
jiffy  in  the  open  air  —  but  the  Chinamen  squatted 
around  their  big  kettles  of  rice  and  stew  and  tea.  The 
U.  P.  officials  dined  with  President  Stanford  and  the 
other  C.  P.  officials  at  a  separate  mess,  near  the 
headquarters  private  car. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  See  it  through  ?  " 
asked  George,  of  Terry,  while  they  cleaned  their  plat- 
ters. 

"  I  dunno.  Guess  there's  no  doubt  about  those  ten 
miles." 


246          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

"  Well,  I  should  say  not !  Only  four  miles  yet,  and 
five  hours  to  do  them  in.  But  let's  stick  around." 

"  All  right.  We'll  stay  as  long  as  General  Dodge- 
and  the  two  Casements  stay.  Down  on  the  plains  we 
used  to  think  three  miles  was  a  big  day's  work;  but, 
gee,  these  Central  gangs  can  double  that  in  hajf  a 
day!" 

"  So  could  the  U.  P.  gangs,  if  they  wanted  to  show 
off,"  George  asserted.  "  Look  what  we  did  on  the 
Red  Desert,  and  in  the  mountains  last  winter.  We 
could  start  in  and  lay  twelve  miles  tomorrow,  if  we 
had  the  chance." 

At  two-thirty  o'clock  prompt  the  whistle  of  the 
iron-train  tooted  one  shrill  blast.  The  C.  P.  track- 
crews  had  been  stationed  for  five  minutes,  poised  and 
waiting.  The  sweat  had  dried  on  them  —  they 
were  a  bit  stiff  and  tired;  but  they  were  game  for  the 
finish.  Like  a  machine  when  a  lever  has  been  pulled, 
at  the  sound  of  the  whistle  they  all  broke  into  motion 
again. 

Some  of  the  spectators  left.  It  seemed  to  be  a 
certainty  that  the  ten  miles  would  be  won,  although  of 
course  there  might  be  a  hitch.  Four  miles  to  be  added 
to  six,  in  the  shank  of  a  day,  was  a  chore. 

On  marched  end  o'  track,  carried  by  these  C.  P. 
cracks,  and  escorted  by  the  expectant  crowd;  to  the 
seven-mile  stake  —  and  the  eight-mile  stake  —  but 
backs  and  arms,  and  eyes  also,  were  getting  tired. 

The  sun  was  sinking  toward  the  desert  ranges  in  the 
west ;  end  o'  track  was  moving  forward  more  slowly. 

Terry  measured  the  distance  between  sun  and  moun- 
tains. 


THE  C  P.  SHOW  THEIR  METTLE     247 

"  Dunno  whether  they'll  do  it  or  not.  They're 
pretty  well  petered  out.  Those  track-layers  are  plumb 
tuckered.  Reckon  their  hands  and  feet,  both,  are 
blistered." 

'  The  spikers'  tongues  are  sure  hanging  out,"  added 
George.  "  'Twon't  be  fair  for  'em  to  work  by  night. 
They've  got  to  finish  inside  of  a  day." 

The  U.  P.  officials  were  still  here;  so  was  Pat,  and 
Big  Mike  the  grading  boss,  and  quite  a  bunch  of  other 
spectators  who,  like  Terry  and  George,  had  resolved 
to  "  stick  it  out." 

The  nine-mile  post!  The  sun  now  was  low  over 
the  western  edge  of  Promontory  Point. 

"  One  more  stake,  boys,"  hoarsely  urged  Boss  Mink- 
ler.  "  Plenty  of  time,  if  you  just  keep  at  it." 

"  No  stopee,  John.  Keep  chop-chop.  Almost  top- 
side," shouted  Mr.  Crocker. 

"  Hi-yah,  Meesty  Clocky.  Keep  chop-chop,  make 
topside,  you  bet,"  panted  the  Chinamen. 

The  sun  of  April  29  was  touching  the  western  ridge; 
the  shadows  of  workers  and  spectators  stretched  long 
—  the  rail-layers'  shadows  seemed  to  lead  on,  mark- 
ing the  way. 

"  What  time  is  it  ?  "  Pat  demanded. 

"  Close  on  seven  o'clock." 

"  B'  dad,  an'  they'll  make  it,  then ;  for  yon's  the  ten- 
mile  stake.  Yis,  an'  I  hope  they  do,  even  if  I  have  to 
pay  the  $10,000  myself." 

Rail  by  rail  it  was,  with  the  sweaty  forms  stagger- 
ing after,  in  the  wake  of  the  little  rail-truck.  Rail  by 
rail  —  only  a  few  more  needed 


248          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

What!  The  ten-mile  stake?  Hooray!  And 
seven  o'clock  precisely!  Ten  miles  of  track,  laid  in 
ten  and  one-half  hours'  working  time,  or  almost  at  the 
rate  of  a  mile  an  hour!  A  world's  record,  by  the 
Central  Pacific  Railroad. 

"  Finish  out  the  truck-load,  boys,"  bade  Mr.  Mink- 
ler.  "  Give  the  U.  P.  good  measure." 

And  they  finished  the  truck-load. 

"  Ten  miles  and  200  feet  extra,  gentlemen,"  Mr. 
Crocker  announced.  "  Are  you  satisfied  ?  " 

"  You  win,"  smiled  General  Dodge. 

The  track  crews  eased  their  weary  back,  and  tried 
to  smile,  too;  but  they  drooped  as  they  leaned  upon 
their  tools.  The  panting  rail-carriers  threw  them- 
selves flat,  exhausted. 

"  That  was  a  giant's  feat,  gentlemen,"  proclaimed 
Mr.  Crocker.  "  I  want  to  introduce  to  you  these  eight 
men  who  carried  ten  miles  of  rails  in  one  day,  without 
a  pause  except  for  nooning.  Their  names  are  Michael 
Shay,  Patrick  Joyce,  Thomas  Daily,  Michael  Ken- 
nedy, Fred  McNamara,  Edward  Killeen,  George 
Wyatt,  and  Michael  Sullivan.  They've  moved  bodily 
over  a  million  and  a  half  pounds  of  iron." 

The  crowd  cheered. 

"  An'  sivin  of  'em  are  Irish,  an'  the  other  ought  to 
be,"  shouted  Pat.  "  So  it's  all  in  the  family,  an'  we 
don't  begrudge  yez  the  job.  Faith,"  he  added,  to  his 
rival,  Track  Boss  Minkler,  "  a  trifle  over  2,000,000 
pounds  o'  iron  have  your  gangs  handled  this  day. 
For  hiven's  sake,  send  your  min  to  bed,  or  my  brain'll 
burst  wid  lookin'  at  'em.  B'  dad,  an'  wance  I 


THE  C  P.  SHOW  THEIR  METTLE     249 

thought  we  could  skin  yez  at  the  track  game.  Mebbe 
we  can  —  I'm  not  say  in'  we  can't,  but  we're  lucky 
to  quit  before-time." 

"  It's  laid  and  well  laid,"  Division  Superintendent 
Campbell  was  remarking,  to  General  Casement. 
"  And  to  prove  the  fact,  I'll  engage  to  run  a  locomo- 
tive over  the  entire  distance  in  forty  minutes." 

So  he  did,  on  the  return  to  the  C.  P.  camp ;  but  only 
a  few  of  the  visitors  remained,  to  witness.  The  sun 
had  set,  soon  the  darkness  would  gather,  and  the  bulk 
of  the  crowd  commenced  to  stream  eastward,  for 
Promontory,  the  U.  P.  camp,  Blue  Creek,  and  even 
beyond  by  wagon  and  train. 

General  Dodge  and  General  Casement  and  Mr.  Reed 
stayed,  to  be  the  guests  of  Governor  Stanford  at  sup- 
per. 

"  What  do  you  reckon  Pat  meant  by  his  2,000,000 
pounds  ?  "  George  queried,  as  he  and  Terry  cantered 
on  their  way  to  camp.  "  All  those  figures  sound  like 
heap  talk." 

"  Let's  ask  Major  Hurd." 

They  dropped  back  to  Major  Hurd,  the  U.  P.  as- 
sistant superintendent  of  construction. 

"  Crocker  knows,  and  Pat  made  a  shrewd  guess," 
said  Major  Hurd.  "  It's  quickly  figured.  I  have  the 
items  right  here."  And  he  consulted  his  pocket  memo- 
randum book.  "  The  C.  P.  are  using  thirty-foot  rails, 
weighing  fifty-six  pounds  to  the  yard.  In  one  mile 
there  should  be  352  rails,  each  weighing  560  pounds, 
and  the  total  weight  for  ten  miles  sums  1,971,200 
pounds,  in  rails  alone.  The  ten  miles  calls  for  55,000 


250 


OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 


spikes,  7,040  fish-plate  fasteners,  14,080  bolts;  and 
while  they  may  not  bring  the  total  quite  to  the  2,100,- 
ooo  pounds,  we'll  call  it  that  in  round  numbers. 
And  every  pound  of  the  iron  had  to  be  handled  — 
and  handled  several  times." 

"Whew!"  sighed  George,  as  if  the  very  thought 
made  him  tired.  "  Wonder  when  the  next  big  show 
will  be." 

"Which?"  Terry  asked.  "Pat  counting  the  ties 
with  his  nose?  There  are  over  26,000  of  them." 

"  No.  The  joining  of  the  tracks.  The  C.  P.  have 
only  four  miles  to  go." 

"  The  wedding  of  the  rails,  you  mean  ?  "  prompted 
Major  Kurd.  "  May  10  is  the  date  suggested,  I  un- 
derstand. That  will  give  both  roads  time  to  arrange 
for  a  program  and  for  bringing  in  the  people  who'll 
wish  to  come,  from  the  East  and  West.  General 
Dodge  is  talking  the  matter  over  with  Governor  Stan- 
ford now,  so  as  to  report  to  New  York." 

"  Thank  you.  We'll  stick  around,  then,  I  guess," 
George  asserted.  "  I'll  have  to  stick,  anyway,"  he 
added,  to  Terry,  as  they  two  rode  ahead,  "  till  the  men 
are  all  paid  off.  And  maybe  so  will  you." 

"  Haven't  been  paid,  myself,  for  a  month,"  laughed 
Terry.  "  But  that  doesn't  count.  I'm  going  to  see 
this  thing  through.  The  wedding  of  the  rails  is  liable 
to  be  a  regular  humdinger  of  a  celebration." 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE   WEDDING   OF   THE   RAILS 

"  HAVE  ye  seen  the  grand  tie  that  them  Californy 
people  are  givin'  toward  the  big  doin's  tomorrow  ?  " 

Paddy  Miles  put  the  query  to  Terry,  in  the  U.  P. 
construction  camp  on  the  border  of  the  Salt  Lake  near 
Blue  Creek.  The  weather  of  the  past  few  days  had 
turned  raw,  blustery  and  rainy.  Both  the  U.  P.  and 
the  C.  P.  camps  had  been  moved  from  the  high  windy 
plateau  down  to  lower  ground.  Now  they  were  out  of 
sight  of  each  other. 

"  No.     What  kind  of  a  tie,  Pat?  " 

"  Red  as  rale  mahogany,  an'  polished  like  satin,  an' 
set  wid  a  silver  plate.  'Tis  the  last  tie,  to  be  laid 
under  the  inds  o'  the  last  rails." 

"Where  is  it?" 

"  Over  yon  in  the  C.  Pay.  special  car,  on  the  sidin* 
back  o'  their  ind  o'  track.  Yes,  an'  'twixt  you  an'  me 
(but  'tain't  to  be  repeated),  there  are  two  spikes  o' 
solid  gold,  wan  of  'em  topped  wid  a  big  nugget,  an' 
worth  $400,  come  along  wid  it,  an'  two  silver  spikes, 
from  Nevady  an'  Arizony.  Minkler's  guardin'  the 
car,  wid  a  squad  o'  track  men,  but  I  dare  say  if  you 
go  over  an'  tell  him  I  sent  you,  he'll  let  you  have  a 
peep." 

This  was  Sunday,  May  9.  The  ceremony  of  lay- 
ing the  last  rails  had  been  up  in  the  air,  so  to  say. 

251 


252 


OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 


President  Stanford's  special  car  bringing  a  party  of 
C.  P.  officials  and  their  guests,  including  the  governor 
of  Arizona  and  dignitaries  of  Nevada,  had  arrived 
on  Promontory  last  Friday,  the  seventh,  thinking  that 
the  ceremony  was  to  occur  on  Saturday,  the  eighth. 

But  General  Casement  had  met  them  at  U.  P.  end 
o'  track  with  the  Superintendent  Reed  special  coach, 
to  tell  them  that  the  U.  P.  guests  could  not  possibly 
get  in  from  the  East  before  the  tenth.  So  he  had 
taken  them  back  to  Ogden,  on  a  sight-seeing  tour  of 
the  mountain  country. 

However,  San  Francisco  had  began  to  celebrate, 
anyway.  Omaha  and  Chicago  and  New  York,  Wash- 
ington, Philadelphia,  Boston  and  other  eastern  cities 
were  making  ready.  They  awaited  only  the  word. 

The  Central  had  laid  their  four  miles  of  track,  lack- 
ing a  trifle.  Like  the  Union  Pacific,  they  had  stopped 
one  pair  of  thirty-foot  rails  short  of  the  meeting-place. 

They  had  renamed  their  station  of  "  Victory,"  and 
changed  it  to  Rozel.  They  had  set  up  a  sign-board  at 
either  end  of  their  ten-mile  stint,  to  announce  to  over- 
land passengers :  "  Ten  Miles  of  Track  in  One  Day." 
Their  eight  rail-carriers  —  Mike  Shay,  Pat  Joyce, 
Tom  Daily,  Mike  Kennedy,  Fred  McNamara,  Ed  Kil- 
leen,  George  Wyatt  and  Mike  Sullivan  —  who  had 
toted  all  those  ten  miles  of  rails,  without  being  spelled 
once,  were  still  the  heroes  of  the  day. 

Having  nothing  especial  to  busy  him  this  Sunday 
afternoon,  Terry  straddled  his  horse  and  rode  up  to 
the  summit,  to  see  the  wonderful  tie  and  the  precious 
spikes. 


THE  WEDDING  OF  THE  RAILS       253 

The  summit  of  Promontory  Point  was  pretty  well 
deserted,  today,  except  for  the  little  collection  of  tents 
and  shacks  forming  the  "  town "  of  Promontory. 
The  Central  people  had  started  a  short  siding,  but  had 
quit,  over  Sunday.  Down  at  the  U.  P.  camp  Pat  was 
darkly  hinting  that  this  C.  P.  siding  would  never  be 
finished,  now. 

"  For  they've  gone  to  slape  on  the  job;  an'  b'  gorry 
when  they  wake  up  they're  like  to  see  a  U.  Pay.  sidin' 
in  place,  an'  the  U.  Pay.  ownin'  the  switchin'  rights  at 
the  meetin'-place  terminal.  We  lost  Humboldt  Wells, 
mebbe,  but  we'll  not  lose  Promontory  Point  if  we  can 
help  it." 

Only  the  small  gap  of  two  rails'  length  remained  to 
be  filled  in  before  trains  might  pass  over  the  new 
Pacific  Railway  between  the  Missouri  River  and  the 
Pacific  coast.  A  mere  fifty-eight  feet,  beyond  the 
telegraph  pole  that  proudly  floated  a  United  States  flag 
(hoisted  there  by  orders  of  General  Dodge),  broke  the 
iron  trail  of  1,770  miles.  The  tracks  could  be  con- 
nected up  in  a  jiffy. 

The  Stanford  special  car,  which  was  the  private 
car  of  Mr.  Charles  Crocker,  the  C.  P.  contractor  and 
construction  boss,  stood  yonder  upon  the  C.  P.  siding 
spur.  It  was  gaily  decorated ;  but  all  the  steps  on  one 
side  had  been  torn  away  in  the  trip  out  from  Sacra- 
mento. A  careless  Chinaman,  felling  timber  above  the 
track,  had  landed  a  log  upon  the  rails,  and  the  Stan- 
ford special,  of  only  engine  and  car,  had  just  escaped 
a  bad  wreck. 

The  car  had  got  through,  though;  and  here  it  was, 


254          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

guarded  by  the  C.  P.  track-layer  boss,  H.  H.  Minkler, 
and  a  squad  of  armed  track  men.  Those  gold  spikes 
would  be  a  great  prize  for  some  of  the  "  floaters  "  in 
Promontory. 

Terry  being  a  friend,  Mr.  Minkler  obligingly  un- 
locked the  car  and  ushered  him  inside.  There  was 
nobody  here  except  a  timid  Chinaman  cook.  Every- 
body else  was  sight-seeing. 

Mr.  Minkler  removed  the  canvas  cover  from  the  tie. 

"What  do  you  think  o'  that?  " 

"  It  sure  is  a  beauty."  So  it  was  —  red  and  pol- 
ished like  true  mahogany,  and  set  with  a  silver  plate 
on  the  side.  "  Where  does  it  go,  Mr.  Minkler  ?  " 

"  Read  the  plate  and  you'll  see." 

Terry  stooped  and  read. 

THE  LAST  TIE 

Laid  in  the  Completion  of  the  Pacific  Railroad 
May  10,  1869 

That  was  the  top  inscription  on  the  plate,  followed 
by  the  names  of  the  officers  and  directors  of  the  Cen- 
tral Pacific. 

"  Heft  it." 

"  Whew,  but  it's  heavy !  Is  it  made  of  mahog- 
any?" 

"No.  Californy  laurel;  and  a  good  solid  piece, 
too.  Eight  feet  long,  eight  inches  wide  and  six  inches 
deep,  it  is." 

"  Somebody'll  steal  it  out  of  the  track." 

"  Oh,  it  won't  be  left  there.  It 's  a  show  tie.  Those 
holes  already  drilled  in  it  are  for  the  special  spikes  to 


THE  WEDDING  OF  THE  RAILS       255 

set  in.  Mebbe  you'd  like  to  see  them,  too.  All 
right.  Take  a  squint.  Those  two  gold  ones  are  from 
Californy  —  one  for  Mr.  Durant  to  drive  at  the  U. 
P.  end,  and  the  big  one  with  the  nugget  head  for 
Governor  Stanford  to  drive  at  the  C.  P.  end.  The 
solid  silver  spike  is  from  Nevady ;  they  say  a  hundred 
men  each  hit  it  one  lick,  in  the  forging.  That  other 
spike  is  from  Arizony.  It  's  a  mixture  of  gold,  silver 
and  iron.  And  I  hear  tell  there's  a  silver  spike  comin' 
from  Montany  and  another  from  Idyho." 

When  Terry  rode  back  for  his  own  camp,  he  cast 
calculating  eye  at  the  telegraph  pole,  again,  with  the 
Flag  floating.  It  stood  at  the  U.  P.  end  o'  track,  like 
an  out-post  marking  a  triumphal  march  across  conti- 
nent. High  over  this  high  country  above  the  great 
Salt  Lake  the  Starry  Flag  streamed  in  the  evening 
breeze,  challenging  the  world  of  lake  and  desert  to 
show  any  better  sight. 

The  last  rays  of  the  setting  sun  struck  it  full,  prom- 
ising it  a  bright  tomorrow,  and  Terry  swung  his  hat  at 
it. 

"  Now  if  George  only  gets  here  early  enough !  " 

he  planned.  "  Gee!  Hope  he  does." 

That  was  of  much  importance,  but  was  nothing  to 
worry  over.  George  had  been  kept  in  Ogden,  mostly, 
with  the  pay-car.  He'd  be  on  hand,  though.  No- 
body who  knew  George  Stanton  might  doubt  this. 

"  A  fine  day  ahead  of  us,"  Pat  prophesied,  at  the 
camp,  with  jerk  of  his  scarred  thumb  toward  the 
gorgeous  yellow  sunset.  "  Sure,  we're  goin'  to  be 
blessed  wid  that  —  but  b'  gorry  we  got  to  work  all 


256 


OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 


the  night,  to  'arn  it,  layin'  our  side-track.  Them's 
the  orders  from  Gin'ral  Casement  an'  Gin'ral  Dodge, 
an'  they're  goin'  to  boss  the  job  themsilves  whilst  the 
C.  Pay.  slape.  Twill  be  the  U.  Pay.'s  terminal." 

The  night  was  sharp  and  starry,  and  ice  formed  on 
the  water  buckets.  The  morning  dawned  as  clear  as 
a  bell,  and  fanned  by  a  strong,  nipping  breeze.  Pat's 
prophecy  had  come  true. 

Before  daylight  a  few  spectators  had  commenced  to 
toil  through,  in  the  distance,  by  horse,  wagon  and 
buggy,  from  the  ranches  and  towns  eastward.  The 
boarding-train  was  made  up  early,  to  take  the  men 
on  from  the  construction  camp.  On  the  tender  Terry 
arrived  at  the  head  of  the  procession. 

The  plateau  was  getting  lively.  A  sprinkling  of 
spectators  by  horse,  wagon  and  buggy  had  come  in 
from  the  west  also.  By  all-night  work  the  U.  P. 
siding  had  been  put  in  and  completed.  A  squad  of 
Pat's  men  were  tamping  the  ties,  and  tossing  jokes  at 
the  C.  P.  men  for  having  been  outwitted.  A  squad 
of  Chinamen  from  the  Central  camp  were  pottering 
along  the  C.  P.  roadbed.  It  all  looked  like  business. 

People  continued  to  gather,  and  Terry  fidgeted. 
About  ten  o'clock  the  C.  P.  construction-train,  with  the 
Stanford  special  as  a  trailer,  puffed  down,  to  halt  at 
C.  P.  end  o'  track,  and  wait.  Engine  and  cars  were 
fluttering  with  red,  white  and  blue  flags  and  bunting. 
The  name  of  the  weather-beaten  locomotive  was 
"  Jupiter." 

Evidently  President  Stanford  had  been  entertain- 
ing a  large  breakfast  party,  for  almost  all  the  C.  P.  of- 


THE  WEDDING  OF  THE  RAILS       257 

ficials  piled  out:  the  governor,  and  Vice-President  C. 
P.  Huntingdon,  and  Builder  Crocker,  and  Construc- 
tion Superintendent  J.  H.  Strobridge,  and  Chief  En- 
gineer S.  S.  Montague,  and  Consulting  Chief  Engineer 
George  E.  Gray,  and  a  bunch  of  others  —  three 
United  States  Pacific  Railway  commissioners  and  the 
governors  of  Navada  and  Arizona,  among  them,  peo- 
ple said. 

There  was  one  woman,  Mrs.  Strobridge,  the  Her- 
oine of  the  C.  P.,  they  called  her,  because  she  had 
camped  at  the  front,  with  her  husband,  all  the  way 
during  the  building.  But  the  U.  P.  had  two  heroines, 
besides  Virgie. 

President  Stanford  and  Vice-President  Huntington 
attracted  the  most  attention.  They  were  fine-appear- 
ing men,  in  trousers  and  long  coats  of  black  broad- 
cloth, their  shoes  polished,  everything  about  them 
spick  and  span  as  if  they  had  come  to  a  reception. 
Ex-Governor  Stanford  had  ruddy  complexion  and 
kind,  handsome  face.  He  had  been  California's  war 
governor.  Vice-President  Huntington  was  larger  in 
frame;  broad  and  heavy  and  imposing.  His  face  re- 
minded one  of  a  lion's.  During  all  the  years  of  the 
railroad  building  he  had  made  his  headquarters  in 
New  York,  raising  money  for  the  company;  but  he 
had  traveled  back  and  forth,  back  and  forth,  by  stage 
and  railroad,  nobody  knew  how  many  times.  Both 
he  and  Governor  Stanford  were  reported  to  be  very 
rich. 

They  all  trudged  forward,  to  the  space  that  had 
been  kept  open  from  their  end  o'  track  to  the  flag 


258          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

telegraph  pole.  There  was  shaking  of  hands,  and 
considerable  eddying  about.  Terry  viewed  the 
crowd,  and  the  telegraph  pole,  anxiously. 

"Dog-gone,  why  don't  our  trains  come?"  he  com- 
plained, to  himself.  "  Where's  that  George?  " 

The  U.  P.  boarding-train  had  backed  out  and  en- 
tered upon  the  siding,  to  clear  the  track.  Now  a 
prolonged  whistle  sounded,  from  the  east.  Hurrah! 
Terry  recognized  it;  no  one  of  the  end  o'  track  force 
on  the  U.  P.  line  could  mistake  that  whistle.  Old 
Number  119,  the  veteran  construction-train  engine, 
of  course!  And  here  it  came,  hauling  the  first  U.  P. 
excursion-train  decorated  from  stem  to  stern  with 
the  red,  white  and  blue.  He  ran  down  track. 

The  train  was  loaded  to  the  guards.  Engineer 
Richards  and  Fireman  Bill  Sweeny  w^ere  in  the  cab; 
George  was  hanging  out  from  the  cab  steps,  and 
Virgie  was  riding  on  the  pilot! 

George  made  a  flying  leap,  and  a  rush  for  Terry. 

"  Did  many  C.  P.  folks  get  here  first  ?  Who  are 
they  all?  We  brought  the  whole  U.  P.  gang  in  that 
scrumptious  patent  Pullman  —  Vice-President  Dur- 
ant,  Colonel  Seymour,  Mr.  Dillon  and  Mr.  John  Duff 
of  the  directors,  the  Casements  and  General  Dodge 
and  Mr.  Reed  and  Major  Hurd,  and  two  silver  spikes, 
and  a  heap  of  people  from  New  York  and  Chicago 
and  Boston  and  Omaha  and  I  don't  know  where  else. 
Your  mother  and  my  mother,  too.  There's  another 
train  right  behind  us,  fetching  Ogden's  mayor,  and 
a  raft  of  other  Mormons,  from  Salt  Lake  City,  and 
soldiers  and  a  band  from  Fort  Douglas  down  there. 


THE  WEDDING  OF  THE  RAILS       259 

Bet  we  have  more  people  than  the  C.  P.  Is  that 
their  only  train? " 

"  Come  on !  "  Terry  bade.  "  I've  found  a  place  for 
us,  if  we  can  make  it  before  somebody  else  grabs  it." 

"  Where  ?" 

"  I'll  show  you." 

Away  they  ran,  Terry  leading.  They  had  to  zig- 
zag through  among  the  carriages  and  wagons  and 
horses  and  jostling  spectators. 

"  We  can  get  atop  that  telegraph  pole,  and  see 
everything." 

"  Which  pole  ?  "  panted  George. 

"  The  one  with  the  flag  on  it." 

"How'll  we  do  it?" 

"  Shin  up  and  sit  on  the  cross-arm.  It's  right 
over  the  place." 

"Maybe  they  won't  let  us." 

"  Yes,  they  will.     Everything's  free." 

"  Aw,  shucks ! "  George  puffed,  slackening. 
"  Somebody  else  is  there." 

So  there  was:  a  man  had  mounted  to  the  cross- 
arm  and  was  astride  it. 

"  Shucks !  "  agreed  Terry.  "  I'd  been  saving  that 
for  us." 

He,  too,  slackened,  disappointed. 

"We  can  take  the  next  pole." 

"No;  it's  too  far  off."  Then— "Come  on!" 
urged  Terry.  "  He's  getting  down.  I  know  —  he's 
a  line-man,  is  all,  tapping  the  wire." 

They  ran  again. 

"  He's  leaving  a  ladder.     Hope  it  stays,"  George 


260 


OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 


gasped.  "  That'll  be  nuts,  if  only  nobody  beats  us.'* 
And  he  exclaimed:  "It's  all  right!  That's  Harry! 
That's  Harry  Revere!" 

They  caught  Harry  at  the  foot  of  the  pole. 

"  Hello !     How'd  you  get  here?  " 

Harry  grinned. 

"  On  that  train." 

"  I  didn't  see  you,"  George  accused. 

"  Didn't  say  you  did.  But  I  said  I  was  going  to 
end  at  the  front,  and  here  I  am.  Reached  Ogden 
yesterday,  and  they  sent  me  on  out.  I'm  the  boss 
lightning  shooter,  today." 

"  What  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  Send  the  news.  Connect  up  my  table  yonder  at 
the  track  with  San  Francisco  and  Omaha,  and  tell 
the  United  States  what's  happening.  Today's  the 
day  when  I  own  the  whole  system;  everything's  to 
be  kept  open,  waiting  on  Yours  Truly." 

Off  limped  Harry,  all  business.  Terry  yelled  after 
him. 

"  We're  going  to  climb  your  pole,  then." 

"  All  right.  You  can  borrow  it,  but  don't  you 
monkey  with  my  wires." 

The  people  around  seemed  to  have  no  thought,  yet, 
of  seizing  upon  the  pole.  They  were  too  engaged  in 
staring  about. 

"  Good  eye,"  George  praised,  as  following  Terry 
he  scrambled  up  the  ladder  and  squirmed  the  rest  of 
the  way  to  the  cross-arm.  "  Say !  This  is  shore 
great.  Where's  the  place  for  the  last  spike,  now  ?  " 

"  Square   below.     It'll    be    solid    gold.     I    saw   it. 


THE  WEDDING  OF  THE  RAILS       261 

Seven  inches  long,  with  a  nugget  for  a  head,  and 
worth  $400.  It's  from  California,  for  President 
Stanford  to  drive.  And  there's  another,  not  so  big, 
for  Vice-President  Durant.  I  saw  the  last  tie,  too, 
and  it's  a  dandy  —  all  polished  like  mahogany,  with 
a  silver  plate  tacked  to  it  and  holes  ready  for  the 
spikes.  Arizona  and  Nevada  and  Idaho  are  giving 
silver  spikes " 

"  I  know,"  George  interrupted.  "  I  read  the  whole 
program  in  the  Ogden  paper.  The  governors  are  to 
make  speeches,  and  so  are  the  U.  P.  and  C.  P.  folks ; 
and  the  telegraph  line's  connected  up  with  Harry's 
operator's  outfit  so  that  bells  will  strike  out  East  and 
on  the  Coast  when  the  last  spike's  driven.  Chicago 
and  New  York  and  Boston  and  Washington  and  New 
Orleans  and  St.  Louis  and  Philadelphia  will  all  be 
notified  at  the  same  time  by  Omaha,  and  Sacramento 
and  San  Francisco  will  get  it  direct.  And  old  119, 
and  old  Jupiter  of  the  C.  P.,  will  touch  noses." 

"  It's  a  boss  place  to  see  from,  anyhow/'  observed 
Terry. 

The  C.  P.  head  officials  had  gone  down  track,  to  the 
Pullman  on  the  end  of  the  U.  P.  special  train.  Pres- 
ently the  whole  party,  for  both  roads,  issued  from 
the  Pullman,  and  came  on.  George  chuckled. 

"  Talk  about  '  last  ties.'  That  one  Mr.  Durant  has 
on  beats  the  C.  P.  tie  all  to  pieces !  " 

"  It's  the  last  thing  in  ties,  all  right,"  answered 
Terry. 

Vice-President  Thomas  C.  Durant  of  the  U.  P. 
New  York  office  was  rigged  in  festival  attire,  with  a 


262 


OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 


black  velvet  coat  and  a  necktie  so  gay  that  it  fairly 
dazzled  the  eyes.  General  Dodge,  Mr.  Sidney  Dillon, 
the  Casements,  Major  Marshall  Kurd,  Superintendent 
Reed  —  they  were  there ;  and  a  heavy  bushy-white- 
whiskered  old  gentleman  in  broad-cloth  suit,  who  was 
Mr.  John  Duff  of  Boston,  a  leading  director  and  the 
father  of  young  Mr.  Duff;  and  several  others. 

The  crowd  cheered  them.  The  sight  below  was  a 
stirring  one.  The  second  U.  P.  train  had  arrived; 
from  it  were  hastening  another  bevy  of  excursionists, 
and  the  soldiers  and  band  from  Fort  Douglas  at  Salt 
Lake  City.  The  track-layers  and  graders  and  sur- 
veyors of  both  roads  were  swarming  upon  the  stand- 
ing cars  —  they  covered  the  tops  of  the  coaches,  and 
stood  upon  the  running-boards  of  119  and  Jupiter. 
Yankees,  Irishmen,  Chinamen  and  even  Indians  and 
Mexicans  jostled  one  another  for  position. 

Several  people  had  followed  Terry's  and  George's 
example  and  climbed  the  ladder,  but  they  could  not 
reach  the  cross-arm.  Virgie  had  a  good  position,  in 
the  cab  of  119.  The  two  Heroines  of  the  U.  P.  and 
the  Heroine  of  the  C.  P.  had  met;  they  were  given  a 
front  place  of  honor.  The  companies  of  the  United 
States  Infantry  were  drawn  up,  along  the  grade  at  the 
gap  in  the  track. 

"  Comp'ny  —  rest !  "  the  captains  barked ;  and  the 
blue-coat  line,  their  hands  in  white  gloves  and  every 
button  shining,  stood  at  ease,  while  the  band  played. 

All  the  engines  were  tooting,  also.  There  was  an- 
other whistle,  from  the  west.  A  second  C.  P.  train 
was  coming,  decorated  from  pilot  to  rear  coach.  Its 
crowd  thronged  forward. 


THE  WEDDING  OF  THE  RAILS       263 

The  sun  was  getting  higher  overhead.  At  a  word 
from  General  Dodge,  who  seemed  to  be  a  sort  of 
master  of  ceremonies,  the  infantry  captains  crisply 
ordered : 

"  Comp'ny  —  'tenshun !     P'rade-rest !  " 

The  officials  and  honor  guests  of  the  two  roads 
ranged  themselves  in  the  open  space  left  at  the  gap. 
General  Dodge  lifted  his  hand,  for  silence. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  we  are  about  to  begin.  I 
will  ask  you  all  to  keep  quiet,  until  after  the  cere- 
monies. Kindly  do  not  push  forward,  into  this  space 
between  the  two  engines.  The  wire  in  here  is  con- 
nected with  Omaha  and  San  Francisco,  so  that  the 
news  will  be  spread  east  and  west  simultaneously. 
We  will  first  listen  to  a  prayer  by  the  Reverend  Dr. 
Todd,  of  Massachusetts.  Hats  off,  please." 

Hats  were  doffed.  The  Reverend  Dr.  Todd  — a 
venerable  wrinkled  gentleman  —  stepped  forward,  and 
asked  a  blessing  upon  the  work  about  to  be  completed. 

Harry's  telegraph  instrument  had  been  clicking,  on 
the  little  table  at  which  he  sat  hemmed  in  by  people. 

"  The  operator  has  said,  to  Omaha  and  San  Fran- 
cisco: 'Almost  ready.  Hats  off;  prayer  is  being  of- 
fered,' "  General  Dodge  announced.  "  Now  he  has 
said :  '  We  have  got  done  praying.  The  spike  is 
about  to  be  presented.'  But  first  I  take  pleasure  in 
introducing  to  you  the  Honorable  Leland  Stanford, 
of  Sacramento  —  ex-Governor  of  the  great  State  of 
California,  and  president  of  the  Central  Pacific  Rail- 
road Company.  He  will  address  you." 

Amidst  cheers  Governor  Stanford  stood  forth,  and 


264 


OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 


made  a  short  speech  upon  the  union  of  the  two  roads. 

"  General  Dodge !  Dodge !  Dodge !  General 
Dodge !  Speech !  "  the  crowd  shouted.  So  General 
Dodge,  the  chief  engineer  of  the  Union  Pacific,  made 
a  similar  short  speech. 

The  crowd  commenced  to  cheer  again  —  with 
"Hurrah  for  the  Pacific  Railroad!"  "Hurrah  for 
Stanford!"  Hurrah  for  Dodge!"  "'Rah  for  the 
Casements ! "  "  'Rah  for  the  Star  Spangled  Ban- 
ner!" "Hooray  for  the  engineers!"  "And  don't 
forget  the  trackmen  and  graders!  Hooray  for  the 
Irish  and  the  Mormons  and  the  Chinks !  "  "  Don't 
forget  the  money,  either!  Hooray  for  Durant  and 
Huntington !  " 

This  might  have  kept  up  forever  had  not  General 
Dodge  again  raised  his  hand. 

Here  came  Superintendent  Reed,  of  the  U.  P.,  and 
Superintendent  Strobridge,  of  the  C.  P. —  the  two 
construction  chiefs  —  lugging  the  polished  tie. 

They  carefully  laid  it  into  the  little  bed  prepared 
for  it,  while  the  spectators  craned  and  "  Oh'd  "  and 
"  Ah'd  "  in  admiration. 

Now  here  came  the  last  rails  —  one  pair  from  the 
U.  P.  end,  proudly  carried  by  two  squads  of  the  U.  P. 
Irish,  in  clean  shirts  and  trousers,  and  "  bossed  "  by 
Paddy  Miles;  one  pair  from  the  C.  P.  end,  proudly 
carried  by  two  squads  of  the  C.  P.  Chinamen,  in 
clean  blouses  and  trousers,  and  bossed  by  Mr. 
Minkler. 

Harry's  telegraph  instrument  was  clicking. 

"  Omaha  has   replied :   '  We  understand.     All  are 


THE  WEDDING  OF  THE  RAILS       265 

ready  in  the  East/ '  announced  General  Dodge. 
"  The  word  has  been  repeated  in  all  the  large  cities. 
The  management  of  the  Western  Union  Telegraph 
Company  in  Washington  has  issued  orders  that  the 
lines  are  to  be  kept  open  throughout  the  continent 
until  after  the  ceremonies." 

The  two  pairs  of  rails  had  been  gently  placed,  and 
the  fish-plate  fastening  at  the  joints  adjusted.  One 
double  length  was  spiked  fast  in  the  ordinary  way. 
Pat  and  his  Irish  squads  and  Boss  Minkler  and  his 
Chinaman  squads  filed  off.  The  crowd  burst  into 
another  cheer;  Terry  and  George,  highest  of  all, 
joined. 

"There  she  is,  complete,"  George  asserted. 

"No.     Wait!" 

General  Dodge  was  speaking. 

"  The  time  is  at  hand.  The  operator  is  sending 
the  message,  east  and  west :  '  To  everybody :  Keep 
quiet.  When  the  last  spike  is  driven  at  Promontory 
Point  we  will  say,  "  Done."  Don't  break  the  circuit, 
but  watch  for  the  signals  of  the  hammer  blows.  The 
spike  will  soon  be  driven.  The  signal  will  be  three 
dots  for  the  commencement  of  the  blows/  Omaha 
has  replied,  so  has  San  Francisco.  The  country  is 
waiting.  We  will  now  have  the  presentation  of  the 
spikes.  I  take  pleasure  in  introducing  Congressman 
Tritle,  of  Nevada  Territory." 

The  Honorable  F.  A.  Tritle,  of  Nevada  (who  was 
only  trying  to  be  governor),  stepped  forward,  with  a 
bright  silver  spike.  He  faced  Vice-President  Durant. 

"  To  the  iron  of  the  East  and  the  gold  of  the  West, 


266          OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

Nevada  adds  her  link  of  silver  to  span  the  continent 
and  wed  the  oceans." 

He  handed  the  silver  spike  to  Mr.  Durant,  and 
bowed. 

"Hooray!" 

"  Governor  Safford,  of  Arizona,"  General  Dodge 
announced. 

Governor  A.  P.  K.  Safford  of  Arizona  Territory 
stepped  forward,  with  his  spike,  of  gold,  silver  and 
iron. 

"  Ribbed  in  iron,  clad  in  silver,  and  crowned  with 
gold,  Arizona  presents  her  offering  to  the  enterprise 
that  had  banded  the  continent  and  wedded  the  oceans." 

This  spike  also  went  to  Vice-President  Durant. 

"  Dr.  Harkness,  of  Sacramento  —  who  in  behalf  of 
California  presents  two  spikes,  of  pure  gold,"  an- 
nounced General  Dodge. 

"Which  is  the  $400  one?"  George  demanded,  of 
Terry,  wellnigh  falling  from  the  cross-arm  as  he 
stretched  his  neck.  There  was  such  a  tumult  of 
cheers  that  Terry  barely  heard  him,  and  neither  of 
them  could  hear  the  speech  by  Dr.  Harkness. 

But  he  handed  the  two  golden  spikes  to  Governor 
Stanford. 

A  sudden  silence  broke  the  cheering.  Governor 
Stanford  held  a  little  sledge  with  a  silver  head.  Tele- 
graph wires  ran  from  it  to  Harry's  table. 

"  When  he  hits  the  spike,  they  hear  him  clear  at 
Washington,"  George  whispered.  "  And  in  San 
Francisco,  too ! " 

"Sh!"  Terry  cautioned. 


THE  WEDDING  OF  THE  RAILS       267 

The  governor  had  passed  one  spike  to  Mr.  Durant, 
who  stooped  and  inserted  it  into  the  hole  in  the  pol- 
ished tie,  at  the  end  of  the  U.  P.  rail.  He  straight- 
ened, expectantly,  and  grasped  another  sledge,  with 
iron  head.  Governor  Stanford  gazed  around. 

"All  ready?" 

"All  ready,  governor.  The  East  and  the  West 
are  waiting.  Mr.  Durant,  you  may  drive  your  spike, 
if  you  please." 

Vice-President  Durant,  in  his  gay  necktie  and  his 
velvet  coat,  lifted  his  sledge;  down  it  came,  but  he 
was  nervous,  for 

"Aw,  he  hit  the  rail,  didn't  he?  He  missed!" 
George  blurted. 

"Sure  did/'  Terry  chuckled.  "But  I  guess  it's 
all  right.  Now  Governor  Stanford's  going  to  try." 

"  The  last  spike  will  be  driven  by  President  and  Gov- 
ernor Stanford,"  announced  General  Dodge,  at  the  top 
of  his  voice.  "  He  dug  the  first  shovelful  of  earth  on 
the  Central  Pacific,  at  Sacramento;  he  will  complete 
the  work,  on  Promontory  Point.  Wait,  everybody." 

Governor  Stanford  poised  his  silver-headed  sledge. 
He  tapped  with  it  —  and  he,  too,  struck  the  rail !  But 
that  made  no  difference.  Harry's  telegraph  instru- 
ment clicked,  just  the  same  —  "  dot,"  "  dot,"  "  dot." 

"Three  cheers,  now,  everybody!"  shouted  General 
Dodge.  "  We  have  signaled :  '  Done ! '  The  Liberty 
Bell  in  Independence  Hall  at  Philadelphia  is  ringing, 
a  great  ball  at  Washington  has  fallen,  the  blows 
here  have  been  repeated  on  the  city  hall  bell  at  San 
Francisco.  At  the  third  dot  from  the  wire  a  salute 


268  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

was  fired  from  Fort  Point,  there  and  100  guns  are 
answering  at  Omaha.  The  whole  nation  is  celebrat- 
ing! Three  cheers,  everybody,  for  the  Pacific  Rail- 
road—  the  union  of  the  East  and  of  the  West!" 

The  air  rocked  with  cheers  and  whoops  and  the 
shrieks  of  the  engines.  Hats  went  sailing  helter- 
skelter.  The  band  burst  into  "  Hail,  Columbia." 
And  again  George  almost  tumbled  from  his  perch,  but 
Terry  grabbed  him  just  in  time. 

General  Dodge  called  for  silence.  Harry  was  click- 
ing busily. 

"  The  operator  is  sending  the  following  message : 
'  Promontory  Summit,  Utah,  May  10,  1869.  The  last 
rail  is  laid,  the  last  spike  is  driven.  The  Pacific  Rail- 
road is  completed.  The  point  of  junction  is  1,086 
miles  west  of  the  Missouri  River,  and  690  miles  east 
of  Sacramento  City.'  Signed:  t  Leland  Stanford, 
Central  Pacific  Railroad.  T.  C.  Durant,  Sidney  Dil- 
lon, John  Duff,  Union  Pacific  Railroad.'  The  remain- 
ing spikes  will  now  be  driven,  before  the  passage  of  the 
trains;  and  anybody  who  desires  is  invited  to  strike 
one  blow  each,  in  turn." 

Paddy  Miles  and  Mr.  Minkler  had  rapidly  set  the 
spikes;  and  immediately  a  regular  line  of  people 
formed,  to  seize  the  sledges.  The  U.  P.  and  C.  P. 
officials  and  their  guests  of  honor  started  in,  first, 
though  —  the  Heroine  of  the  Central  blushingly  con- 
ducted forward  by  Vice-President  Huntington,  and 
the  two  Heroines  of  the  Union  Pacific  escorted  by 
Vice-President  Durant. 

"  Come  on !  "  bade  George,  excited.  "  I  want  to  hit 
a  lick,  don't  you?" 


THE  WEDDING  OF  THE  RAILS       269 

"  You  bet  I  do." 

And  down  they  slid,  to  the  ladder,  and  from  the 
ladder  to  the  ground. 

"  Maybe  we'll  be  too  late." 

"  Listen !     Some  of  'em  are  hitting  the  rails,  again." 

Judging  by  the  laughter,  that  was  true.  But  they 
wormed  their  way  through,  to  the  fore.  One  after 
another  the  amateur  spikers  were  whanging  at  the 
spikes.  Terry  espied  Pat. 

"Don't  we  get  a  chance,  Pat?" 

"An'  haven't  yez  hit  a  spike,  yet  ?  "  Pat  likewise 
was  excited.  "  Sure,  now,  nayther  have  some  o'  the 
rist  of  'em.  I  wouldn't  pay  the  best  two  bits  a  day, 
on  me  gang.  But  take  my  sledge,  now.  There's  the 
wan  silver  spike  from  Nevady,  a-waitin',  set  in  its 
hole.  Hit  her  a  whack  apiece  an'  niver  mind  whether 
it's  silver  or  iron.  An'  if  annywan  says  for  yez  to 
lay  off,  tell  'em  Paddy  Miles  told  yez  to  go  ahead." 

George  grabbed  the  sledge,  and  dived  for  the  silver 
spike  of  the  U.  P.  rail,  opposite  the  U.  P.  gold  spike. 

"You  first,"  Terry  panted.  "Quick.  Don't  you 
miss  it." 

"  I'm  —  not  goin'—  to  —  MISS  —  it,"  hissed 
George,  as  his  sledge  came  down  —  Whack ! 
"  There !  Hit  her  a  lick,  yourself." 

Terry  struck  —  Whack!     Buried  the  silver  spike. 

"  By  Jiminy,  we  drove  one  spike,  anyhow,"  they 
proclaimed. 

They  had  been  none  too  soon.  Only  the  last  golden 
spike  remained  untouched,  except  for  the  light  taps 
by  President  Stanford  and  Vice-President  Hunting- 
ton  himself. 


270  OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 

Governor  Stanford  shouted  vigorously. 

"  Stand  aside,  everybody.  The  path-finders  of  the 
two  roads  —  the  men  who  led  the  rails  to  the  meeting- 
point:  Chief  Engineer  General  Grenville  M.  Dodge  of 
the  Union  Pacific,  and  Chief  Engineer  Samuel  S. 
Montague  of  the  Central  Pacific,  will  land  the  final 
blows  upon  the  last  spike.'* 

The  two  engineers  stood,  each  with  a  sledge. 

"  I  first  ?  "  politely  queried  General  Dodge. 

"  No,  general.  The  last  blow  shall  be  yours.  You 
have  come  the  farthest,"  Mr.  Montague  insisted. 

He  landed  easily ;  made  a  good  shot,  and  the  nugget- 
headed  spike  was  sunk  two-thirds  way.  Mr.  Mon- 
tague stepped  aside;  with  a  bow  and  a  smile  the  gen- 
eral took  position;  landed,  and  the  spike  had  sunk  to 
its  battered  nugget. 

"  Let's  skip  to  our  pole,  so  as  to  see  when  the  engines 
touch  noses,"  George  proposed.  He  and  Terry  scut- 
tled for  their  pole,  again.  Up  they  scrambled,  for  the 
cross-arm  —  a  very  fine  place. 

The  rails  had  been  firmed.  The  people  were  being 
forced  back,  to  clear  the  track.  Old  119,  of  the  U.  P., 
Terry's  father  and  Fireman  Bill  Sweeny  —  yes,  and 
George's  father  and  Virgie  also  —  in  the  cab,  and  old 
Jupiter,  of  the  C.  P.,  had  been  unhooked  from  their 
trains ;  they  whistled  —  Toot !  Toot !  —  and  slowly 
advanced  toward  each  other,  bringing  the  cheering 
trackmen  and  graders  who  clung  to  every  inch  that 
was  not  too  hot. 

Slowly,  slowly,  they  crept  forward,  the  one  over 
the  U.  P.  rails,  the  other  over  the  C.  P.  rails;  and  just 


THE  WEDDING  OF  THE  RAILS       271 

at  tne  gold-and-silver-studded  laurel  tie  they  touched 
pilots. 

Terry's  father  swung  out  from  his  cab,  to  the  pilot, 
a  bottle  of  champagne  in  his  hand.  The  engineer  of 
old  Jupiter  swung  out,  opposite,  with  a  bottle.  They 
reached  aside,  and  each  broke  his  bottle  upon  the 
other's  cow-catcher,  so  that  the  wine  flowed  down 
upon  the  joint  and  tie. 

"  The  wedding  of  the  rails  is  accomplished, " 
shouted  General  Dodge.  '  The  two  roads  have  been 
made  one,  never  to  be  parted.'* 

"Hooray!" 

"  Same  as  the  launching  of  a  ship,  huh  ?  "  George 
blatted.  "  Sure.  It's  a  wedding  and  baptizing,  both." 

The  two  engines,  rubbing  noses,  waited  until  a  pho- 
tographer had  taken  another  picture  or  two.  Then 
they  backed  out  again,  coupled  on  to  their  trains,  the 
C.  P.  train  backed  farther 

"Look!"  cried  Terry. 

For  old  119  was  coming  on,  train  and  all,  with 
Virgie  perched  alone  on  the  pilot!  It  passed  clear 
over,  into  C.  P.  territory. 

"  She  said  she'd  be  the  first  passenger  across  by 
U.  P.,  and  so  she  is,"  George  remarked.  "  That's 
right.  But  she's  awful  stubborn." 

"Hooray!  Hooray!"  And  Virgie  waved,  de- 
lighted. 

The  U.  P.  train  backed,  to  clear,  and  old  Jupiter 
hauled  the  C.  P.  train  across,  into  U.  P.  territory. 

As  soon  as  the  C.  P.  train  had  backed  out  again,  and 
the  meeting-place  was  free,  Paddy  Miles  and  Mr. 


272 


OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL 


Minkler  led  a  charge  of  workmen  into  it;  like  experts 
they  pried  the  ends  of  the  rails  from  the  last  tie,  jerked 
out  the  precious  spikes,  and  the  precious  tie ;  slipped  an 
ordinary  tie  under  and  in  business  fashion  spiked  the 
rails  down  again  with  ordinary  spikes. 

"What's  their  rush,  do  you  reckon?" 

"  You'll  see/'  laughed  Terry. 

Scarcely  had  the  track  squads  left,  bearing  their 
spoils,  when  the  crowd  swarmed  into  the  spot,  and 
jostled  and  clawed  and  dug. 

"  Souvenirs !  They're  after  souvenirs !  "  George 
rapped.  "  Want  one?  Want  a  piece  of  tie,  or  some- 
thing?" 

"  Shucks !  "  scoffed  Terry.  "  We  might  as  well  go 
down,  though.  Everything's  over.  But  I  guess  after 
a  fellow's  lived  at  the  front  for  a  couple  of  years,  and 
helped  build  the  road,  like  you  and  I  have,  he  doesn't 
need  any  '  souvenir  '  to  remember  it  by !  " 

"  Right  you  are,  boy,"  George  agreed.  "  I'd  rather 
have  something  to  eat.  Best  thing  we  can  do  is  to 
catch  a  ride  back.  It's  a  quarter  to  one." 

Down  they  plumped,  to  the  ground,  and  were  break- 
ing for  the  U.  P.  trains,  when  they  ran  almost  slap  into 
young  Mr.  Duff. 

"  By  gracious !  Hello.  Where' ve  you  boys  been  ? 
I  wondered " 

"  Up  on  the  telegraph  pole,  most  the  time,"  ex- 
plained Terry,  as  they  all  shook  hands  heartily. 
"  Where' ve  you  been?  Funny  we  didn't  see  you." 

"  Oh,  I've  been  running  'round,  with  the  crowd.  I 
came  out  from  Boston  with  my  dad.  You  both  have 


THE  WEDDING  OF  THE  RAILS       273 

grown  so,  I  didn't  recognize  you,  on  top  that  pole. 
But  hurrah,  anyway,"  and  young  Mr.  Duff  laughed 
boyishly.  "  Well,  here  we  all  are,  at  the  finish.  So 
you  stuck  it  out,  did  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  siree !  "  declared  George.  "  Everybody  stuck 
it  out.  Nobody  quit." 

"  The  two  roads  laid  over  1,000  miles  of  track  in 
thirteen  months;  did  you  know?"  Terry  asked. 

"Of  course  I  know.  The  whole  country  knows; 
papers  have  been  full  of  it.  Whew,  but  I'd  like  to 
have  been  along,  on  the  job;  across  the  deserts  and 
across  the  mountains,  and  clear  here,  to  the  meeting 
of  the  tracks.  Expect  you're  right  proud." 

"  Naw,  we're  too  hungry  to  be  swelled  up  much," 
bluffly  answered  George.  "  But  it  was  no  slouch  of  a 
job,  just  the  same.  Was  it,  Terry?  " 

"  Not  for  Joe !  "  Terry  asserted,  in  the  latest  slang. 
"  But  everybody's  proud,  I  guess  —  from  General 
Dodge  and  Mr.  Durant,  down  to  us." 

"  Do  you  know  ?  "  said  young  Mr.  Duff,  abruptly  — 
as  if  he  had  discovered  something.  "  When  a  fellow 
looks  at  this  iron  trail,  clear  across  country,  he  realizes 
that  it's  a  great  thing  to  be  an  American." 


THE   END 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 
LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


22Jul'59JL 


JUL221959 


YC ! C662 I 


R23083 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


